The Game of the Gods
by Limyaael
Summary: COMPLETE Morgoth and Varda are playing a little game. Morgoth's weapon: Mary Sues. Varda's weapon: Reality. Rated for violence and Vala OOCness.
1. Anjara's Agony

A/N: Yes, another Mary Sue parody. This one is different enough in concept and execution to be funny, though. I hope. Comments and constructive criticism are always welcome.  
  
Do not own Tolkien characters. Also, this could get bloody, which is why the rating..  
  
The Game of the Gods  
  
Varda smiled. "Your move."  
  
Morgoth flinched. Then he looked over the board in front of him. It might have been a chess board, save that a chess board didn't have many flashing blue and green oblongs on it, and wasn't covered with ivory pieces showing various girls and young women with their faces frozen in expressions of longing.  
  
He tapped one of the pieces, a human girl with pointed ears and cat-shaped eyes who sat in front of an oblong box. She flushed pink and then began to breathe.  
  
Varda looked disappointed. "That one? She will be easy to dismiss."  
  
Morgoth smiled smugly. "She is a Sue. They are never easy to dismiss."  
  
"When I am allowed to apply reality to the game," said Varda, "they are."  
  
Some moments passed in silence, which didn't cause Morgoth to flinch, and starlight, which did. Then he said impatiently, "Aren't you going to do anything?"  
  
Varda smiled mysteriously. "Reality is enough."  
  
---------  
  
Anjara carefully checked her backpack. She had an extra change of clothes, makeup, deodorant, three bottles of bottled water, Mountain Dew, frozen pizza, a microwave, a skateboard, earrings, and the gold necklace that proved she was really Elvish in her extra-light magical backpack. And now she was going back to Middle-earth to claim her heritage. She was really the Princess of Mirkwood and Gondor, but had been sent away to Earth by Arathorn, her evil father, who wanted his son to inherit the throne of Gondor. He was ashamed of his half-Elvish daughter.  
  
Not that he needed to be, Anjara thought, glancing complacently at herself in the television set she would use to enter Middle-earth. She did have Elvish eyes and ears, but she was fairer than any human, with long black silken hair and large gray eyes that still had the mysteries of starlight in them. She would show up in Gondor, and after a short period of argument, Aragorn would yield the throne to her, convinced that his half-sister could rule better than he could. Then Anjara would go to Mirkwood and claim the throne from her half-brother Legolas Greenleaf.  
  
She turned to face the TV, clicking it on. The FOTR DVD began to play, and Anjara smiled again. She had known the first time she saw the movie that someone else had found a portal to Middle-earth, the home she had dreamed of for so long. This was what it really looked like.  
  
Confidently, she held the Elvish medallion in front of her and spoke the words that would take her home. "_Mellon daeron melamin Anjara_!"  
  
She sprang forward, towards the green and welcoming hills of the Shire that shone on the TV. The gate would open in a moment, and-  
  
Anjara dashed full-force into the television screen, which broke around her. Bright sparks fizzled and hissed and popped in her ears, and shards of glass dug into her skin. She tried to shift, tried to move out of there, but a massive head wound was already doing its work.  
  
Her parents were shocked to come home and find their daughter dead with her head in the television set. They never did quite figure out what she had been doing, or why she had a fake-looking plastic medallion clutched in one hand and various items scattered on the floor around her.  
  
--------------  
  
Varda smiled. Morgoth flinched.  
  
"Do you see?" Varda murmured. "No one can use a television set as a portal to another world. It is self-evidently ridiculous."  
  
Morgoth had a moment of gloomy foresight. "You are going to be saying that quite often."  
  
"Yes, I am," Varda agreed, smiling even more.   
  
Morgoth covered his eyes with his hand. "_Must_ you? It's as bright as the damned Valacirca in here."  
  
Varda dimmed her smile, but didn't put it out. "I need do nothing," she said, "but lift the restrictions that allow a Sue to override reality. Reality does the rest."  
  
Morgoth growled. "You shall not win every time," he promised, and touched another Sue.  
  
"Shall I not?" Varda murmured, and prepared to play once again.


	2. Mirrililli's Misery

Do not own Tolkien characters! And the supposed "song" that Mirrililli sings isn't real; it's just a mishmash of the kind of goody-goody phrases that Sues usually sing.  
  
The Game of the Gods, 2  
  
Varda studied the Sue Morgoth had picked for a long moment. "That is an interesting choice," she said, and Menelvagor glimmered and flashed.  
  
Morgoth looked suspiciously at the constellation, then back at Varda. "You are giggling. The stars always flash like that when you are giggling."  
  
"Nonsense," said Varda. "Why would I giggle? You have chosen a Sue who is already in Middle-earth, so that I cannot apply reality to her passage between worlds. And, as you know, that is the easiest place to stop a Sue."  
  
Morgoth smiled. "Then you want another weapon?"  
  
"Reality will still be enough," said Varda serenely.  
  
Morgoth snorted, and flicked the Sue, a lovely young Elvish woman with long flowing hair, into life.  
  
---------  
  
Mirrililli brushed the leaves out of her hair, and smiled. She was almost to Mirkwood; she could see the forest banking ahead of her like a great green wall. And soon she would meet Legolas Greenleaf, and tell him how much they had in common. Mirrililli even modestly dared to suppose that love might be waiting for her there. Of course, love lay in the hands of Eru, and might grow in the hearts of any untended. But she had seen the Elven Prince from afar as he passed through Lothlórien one day two centuries ago, and since then she had been unable to forget him.   
  
_I hope that he will remember me_, she thought, and then smiled as she thought of what her mother would say to such a thing. _Stop putting yourself down, girl! Of course you will win over the Prince's heart. How could anyone not love such a beautiful girl, with such dark hair and glowing gray eyes?_  
  
Mirrililli stepped lightly into Mirkwood, certain that she would soon be mistress of its green shades.  
  
*******  
  
Mirrililli pushed her hair out of her mouth and panted. The summer sun was hot, even here beneath the leaves, where she had seen no glimpse of it for many a day. The twilight pressed down on her like a hand, and she had spots of sweat showing through her dress in many places. She shuddered to think of what she would look like if she met Prince Legolas now.  
  
But one thing was even more pressing than the state of her dress.  
  
_Water_.  
  
Mirrililli hadn't brought any water into Mirkwood with her, certain that she would find some soon enough. And she had- but the sound of the water seemed to drift away from her when she went seeking it, so that the stream was always beyond the next hillock. Now she was near it at last, and she walked softly, singing the song that had won her so many hearts in the Golden Wood. It might suffice to win the stream over.  
  
"_So don't let me down,  
  
Don't let me see you frown,  
  
Always brighter tomorrow, someday,  
  
In a good way..._"  
  
She came over the hill, and smiled prettily to see the stream rushing along before her. At once she ran down the hill and plunged her face into the dark water, drinking to her heart's content.  
  
And as suddenly, she fell asleep on the bank, seeing her dazzling arrival at Prince Legolas's castle. He had a home even fairer than Caras Galadhon, and he welcomed her with shining eyes. Of course he remembered her, he assured her, and there was no reason to fear that any she-elf had a competing hold on his heart...  
  
********  
  
Mirrililli woke, frightened and disoriented. Where was she? It seemed to be a close little chamber, so close that she could hardly move, and the walls clung to her when she shifted.  
  
"Hello?" she called, but her mouth was muffled. She reached up to tear off the covering, and found she couldn't move her arm. She screamed.  
  
Something clicked next to her, and then there came a piercing bite on the back of her neck. Mirrililli stiffened, and found that even her lips seemed frozen. Helpless, she hung in the web as the giant spider fed.  
  
----------------  
  
Menelvagor flashed. Morgoth jumped back from the game-board, swearing.  
  
"Tulkas! Túrin! Earendil! You cheated! You cheated!"  
  
Menelvagor ceased flashing, and Varda's eyes narrowed. "Oh?"   
  
Abruptly the light around Morgoth was bright and strong, and formed itself into an image he knew all too well: Angainor. Morgoth whimpered and fell back into his seat.  
  
"I no more cheated than Angainor still confines you," said Varda, the light fading as she regained her temper. "The water of Mirkwood is enchanted to give dreams, and the girl had no companions to rescue her." Already she was smiling again. "It should have been ridiculously self-evident."  
  
"Forest animals would have brought her water," Morgoth muttered.  
  
"If she could walk in fantasy," said Varda. "But this is reality." She paused, and when she spoke again, her voice had a tone of sweet concern. "Shall we play no longer?"  
  
"No!" Morgoth snapped. "I've got a Sue even _you_ can't defeat!" He reached for a darkened piece of ivory on the far side of the board.  
  
"As you will, of course," said Varda, while Menelvagor flashed again.  
  
Morgoth pretended not to notice.  



	3. Sauronia's Surprise

A/N: Here are more Sues, and what they do when exposed to reality! Hope everyone's enjoying the story.

The Game of the Gods, 3  
  
Morgoth eyed Varda in suspicion as she came back to the gaming table. "Why did you leave?" he demanded.  
  
Varda folded her hands in front of her. "Even a Valië may sometimes have to answer a call of nature," she said.  
  
"I don't have to," Morgoth announced proudly.  
  
"That _would_ explain some things about your facial expression," Varda agreed. "Now. Have you chosen your next piece?"  
  
Morgoth eyed her in suspicion, then realized he'd already done that and tried glaring. Varda only smiled, which made light get in his eyes. He looked down at the piece of darkened ivory he had chosen, though, and his spirit returned.  
  
"Yes," he announced, and moved her forward. A young Elvish woman, beautiful but cruel of feature, took one deep breath and then began to move. Varda placed her chin in her hands and contemplated her.  
  
"Fascinating," she murmured.  
  
"Are you going to respond or not?" Morgoth demanded.  
  
"She's already on her way to meet Olórin," said Varda.   
  
"Yes, I know," said Morgoth proudly. "She'll destroy him! He hung around with Nienna too much. He got all weepy."  
  
"Hmmmm," Varda said.  
  
Morgoth sighed in irritation. He got a rise out of the Star-kindler all too rarely. But then he looked back at the board and perked up. There was no way that he could lose now.  
  
---------  
  
Sauronia glanced back at the Nazgûl following behind her and curled her lip. She didn't like taking them, but her father had entrusted her with this mission, and that meant that she _had_ to take them, no matter how little she liked it. Sauron ruled in Mordor, and he would rule in all Middle-earth soon enough. Sauronia knew that she had to obey him as long as that was the case.  
  
_But one day_, she thought with a small smile, _one day..._  
  
She kicked her black horse, Thunderbird, and sent him racing ahead. The Nazgûl gave little protesting cries behind her. Sauronia tossed her dark hair and laughed. They were all in love with her, of course, although Sauronia had only ever shown favor to the Witch-King's suit. They didn't like it when she got too far from them.   
  
But Sauronia would do as she wished.  
  
_My father should see that_, she thought with an angry sigh, as her thoughts returned to rotating around the black hole of her discontent. _But he's too occupied with the Ring_.  
  
Sauronia knew she deserved more notice. In all ways, she was a weapon, poised to strike at the heart of Middle-earth like a sword and become mightier than her father. She had the cruel, fair beauty, relic of her raped Elvish mother. She had long dark hair that hung to her ankles when it wasn't bound in a battle-braid, and large dark eyes that altered with her moods. Currently, they were a cold green as they scanned the snowy slopes ahead of her.   
  
Sauron had ordered Sauronia to seek out the greatest threat to his power and destroy it. He thought he was sending her after Saruman, but Sauronia knew that the greatest threat was to be found on the summit of Caradhras, lying in the snow. He would become Gandalf the White if he rose again. So Sauronia had seen with her clear sight. She would destroy the Gray Fool, and then she would seek out and destroy the Heir of Isildur. Then she would go after the tiny hobbit her father wouldn't deign to notice, and take the Ring for her own, and rule over Middle-earth.  
  
Thunderbird reared abruptly as a shape broke out of the snow ahead of her. Sauronia stared for a moment, then smiled the lovely, deadly smile she reserved for occasions like this when she saw the naked and dead-seeming man. She drew her sword and slid down from Thunderbird, walking confidently nearer. Even if Gandalf had returned to himself, he couldn't match her; Sauronia was the best with a sword in all Middle-earth. And she had no compunctions against killing a helpless man, since her father had raised her to be evil.  
  
She knelt down beside the old man, and prepared the death blow. But then his eyes sought her, and fixed on her. Sauronia smiled even more widely and stayed her hand. She would have some fun now.  
  
"Well, Gandalf the Naked," she mocked. "What have you to say to me?"  
  
His eyes became a little more clear, but no less puzzled. "Who are you?" he whispered, his words little more than a puff of breath. Sauronia heard him, of course. She could hear the songs of birds in Mirkwood, if she listened closely enough.  
  
"My name is Sauronia," she said. "And you should know what that means well enough."  
  
Gandalf just stared at her. Sauronia sighed impatiently. _Are the good guys always so stupid?_  
  
"I'm Sauron's daughter," she said. "By an Elvish woman."  
  
Gandalf slowly shook his head. "You cannot be," he said.  
  
"And why not?" Sauronia asked. This was getting tiresome. She would have preferred just to strike and slay him now. She should have, she thought irritably. Last time she would trust to a man naked in the cold to entertain her, unless whips were involved.  
  
"Because," said Gandalf, "Sauron can no longer assume a bodily form. It was stripped from him before this Age began, and now he lies in the East as a Lidless Eye."  
  
Sauronia opened her mouth to deny that, then paused. _He's right about one thing_, she thought in confusion. _How can a huge red eye have sex with an elf_?  
  
A moment later, her sword fell into the snow, as she vanished in a puff of logic.  
  
-------------  
  
Morgoth stared at the empty board for a long moment, and then turned to look at Varda. Varda was staring at the ceiling.  
  
"That time you did cheat," said Morgoth, though he sounded too stunned to be angry. "You didn't do anything; you let Olórin do all the work for you."  
  
Varda finally looked at him, and stars shone as she smiled. Morgoth cursed and covered his face with his hand. "He was happy to help. They were both Maiar in the beginning. And he suffered enough from Sauron's evil when he was in Middle-earth."  
  
"But you cheated," said Morgoth, his voice gathering momentum. "That means you lose the game."  
  
"Let's just see about that, shall we?" Varda said, snapping her fingers.  
  
The contract they had signed before the game appeared in a rush of comets. Varda made a great show of perusing it, while Morgoth watched her in growing uneasiness.  
  
"Ah! Yes," Varda said. "Here it is. 'Either party may cheat at any time.'" She laid down the contract and smiled at Morgoth. "As I recall, you specifically asked that that be put in there."  
  
"I'm the Lord of Evil!" Morgoth wailed. "What else was I supposed to do?"  
  
"I don't know, I'm sure," said Varda. "But choose your next piece. And do try to make it more of a challenge, this time."  
  
Morgoth breathed for a long moment. Then he reached out and slowly plucked a large piece from the far end of the board.  
  
"Ah," said Varda. "Most interesting." She paused and looked up at Morgoth. "Are you _sure_ that you don't need to answer the call of nature?"  
  
  



	4. Xacanythia's Xenophobe

A/N: Because there had to be a half-dragon Sue.

The Game of the Gods, 4  
  
"You can't defeat this one!" Morgoth was gloating.   
  
Varda yawned. It was the 30,000th time he'd said something like that in the last Valian Year. "Shall we begin?" she asked, and looked at the piece Morgoth had picked up. It was colored shimmering ivory and silver, and had wings on its back. Varda raised her eyebrows. "And what is this?"  
  
"It is best to let the Sue tell her own story," said Morgoth smugly, wincing as a blister on his hand popped. He'd gone to box with a Balrog after his last game with Varda, thinking it might relieve his feelings. "But she's part dragon."  
  
"Really."  
  
"And going to redeem herself by spreading good in Middle-earth."  
  
"Really."  
  
Morgoth grinned proudly. Varda was being unusually silent, and the stars weren't flashing. That had to mean she couldn't do anything about it. "That's right. She'll be flying south from the mountains where the dragons lair."  
  
Varda began to smile.  
  
Morgoth glared at her, and then willed the Sue into life.  
  
------  
  
Xacanythia lay on the ledge outside her cave, wearily looking to the north. She had spent long Ages there, spreading fire and ruin, taking the treasure of the dwarves, and devouring those who opposed her.  
  
But, she had to admit, she had grown bored.  
  
She yawned and stood up. She was a slender, pale Elvish woman to the eye, though her coloring was exotic- bright silver hair with streaks of white in it, and bright silver eyes. It was only when she turned and looked at someone that they realized here was a person of immense age. Her eyes shone and sparkled with that age, rich and thick with light. And they should. Xacanythia had been born of a union between an Elf and a dragon, long ago when the dragons had not yielded to evil and could still assume the forms of Elves. She could look like either, but for a long time she had preferred this two-legged form, with wings on her back, when she was not actually ravaging.  
  
And for a long time, she had felt that something was wrong.  
  
"I could do so much good," Xacanythia muttered, looking to the south. She lived in the wild, lonely northern ranges of Middle-earth, where the dwarves had once dwelt and then fled from her wrath. She hadn't seen another dragon in years, and sometimes it felt as if she had concentrated all their evil into herself. "I could rescue Elven cities from destruction. I could restore treasure of the hoards of those dwarves that still remain. I could fly human girls to their heart's desire."  
  
But, as it did every time, the ambition flickered out in her hungry heart, and Xacanythia retreated inward to her hoard and slept.   
  
*******  
  
That night, though, she had a dream that rekindled her ambition. She dreamed of a small group of smaller creatures setting out from a green land. Some of them Xacanythia recognized; she had chased and eaten enough dwarves in her time. But there was an old man, heavy with magic, who traveled with them, and a smaller creature that had a glow of destiny around him.  
  
Xacanythia could hear an immense voice speaking to her in her dreams, telling her what she must do. The small creature would soon find a treasure that would become too great for him to bear, unless she went south and helped him. And if the treasure overcame him, then all of Middle-earth would perish.  
  
"What is his name?" Xacanythia asked in the dream, and received the answer.  
  
"Bilbo. He will come at last to the great forest Mirkwood, in the south. Do you know it?"  
  
"I know it," Xacanythia breathed, and felt the ambition grow in her heart.  
  
*******  
  
The next day, Xacanythia gazed upon her hoard for the last time, and then left it free to the wind and the rain. Whoever wanted it could take it. She was going to find better treasures: love, and friendship, and respect.  
  
She stood on the ledge outside her lair, and transformed. In seconds, a silvery-white dragon with breath of purest light stood where the elf-maiden had been. Xacanythia lashed her tail and felt a sweet shiver travel through her. She was the only one of her kind in Middle-earth. The fact had always torn at her. Now she felt her own uniqueness more clearly. Only she could help Bilbo.  
  
She sprang into the air, turned south, and flew. The distance was as nothing to the vast wings of a dragon, and soon she saw the mountains thinning out beneath her. For some time, she flew only over level land.  
  
Then she saw one more mountain ahead of her. Xacanythia loosed a blast of light in celebration. She could rest, and then be on her way to Mirkwood, there to rescue Bilbo from the giant spiders that would entrap him.  
  
As she swerved towards the mountain, something rose to meet her.  
  
Xacanythia pulled up, gazing in astonishment. The fast-moving shape was another dragon! Red-gold he was, with furious eyes and a lashing tail. Xacanythia flew to meet him, curious as to what she was doing here. She knew she was the only shapeshifter in Middle-earth, and she had thought she was the last dragon.  
  
The beast opened his jaws. Xacanythia smiled and prepared to accept his greeting of light.  
  
Fire poured over her instead. Xacanythia cried out, feeling as though a vast hand had slapped her out of the sky. Down she went, pinwheeling end over end, her wings afire and her body catching. Perhaps she would survive if she found water. She clung to that thought. There was a lake nearby, somewhere...  
  
But she struck the ground with enough force to break every bone in her body, and a moment later Smaug landed beside her and ended it. Then, because all that flying had rather worn him out, he settled down to a good meal, already nicely roasted.  
  
--------  
  
Morgoth stared at the board. Varda stared at her fingers and hummed. Random stars winked in and out.  
  
Then Morgoth said, "That wasn't cheating."  
  
"No," said Varda. "That was a Sue thinking dragons are nice, and being punished for it. That was you forgetting some things."  
  
Morgoth shook his head- not to deny what she said, but just in acknowledgment of the Sue's stupidity. He stared at the board a while longer, then said, "I think I understand what to do now," and moved another piece forward.  
  
For the first time, Varda looked worried. "Her?" she objected.  
  
"Her," Morgoth confirmed smugly.


	5. Arwen's Artistry

Thanks for the reviews, everyone! Glad you're enjoying the story so far.

Technetium: Yes, that was indeed an HHGG reference with the puff of logic.

Anon: Yes, this one is Arwen. Nicely spotted! I wanted a Canon Sue possession. Here's hoping the solution's up to par...

Oh, the little 'Gothic' poem is made up, too.  
  
The Game of the Gods, 5  
  
"You needed some time to face her, didn't you?" Morgoth asked.  
  
Varda gave him a haughty look as she sat down again. "I only had to gaze on the beauty of Arien rising," she said. "Since it reminds me most of the Trees that _someone_ at this table destroyed."  
  
Morgoth would have had the good grace to look ashamed, if he had known what "good grace" or "ashamed" meant. "You did want to wait," he said smugly. "You can't face the Sue I have for you."  
  
Varda gazed grimly at what appeared to be Arwen, daughter of Elrond, under Morgoth's thumb. "Let us play."  
  
"You don't want to wait?" Morgoth asked, voice dripping with false sympathy. "Perhaps for Tilion to rise as well?"  
  
Varda only gazed intently at the false Arwen.  
  
Morgoth chuckled, and gently sent the Sue into motion.  
  
---------  
  
Arwen Undomiel inclined her head to Elrond. "Of course I am looking forward to marrying Aragorn, Father," she said. "Our love has lasted for nearly a century. It is time that it was made permanent."  
  
_No_! her mind screeched in the meantime. _You just want to sell me off and use me as a breeding instrument for little Elflings, and so does Aragorn!_  
  
But Arwen kept all of that out of her eyes. She had a plan, and soon enough she would be the Queen of the Reunited Kingdom in her own right.  
  
Elrond sighed and looked forward, in the direction of Minas Tirith, where they rode for Arwen's wedding. "You have made your choice," he said quietly. "And I will no longer try to dissuade you. I fear the mortal life will grow dark upon you, but perhaps the sweetness of mortal love will bloom like a flower in that darkness."  
  
Arwen rolled her eyes. _If he's so worried about me, why doesn't he actually try to keep me from marrying that foul-smelling human?_   
  
But she knew the answer. Her father was against her. All men were against all women, in Middle-earth. Arwen didn't want to wear gowns, and she had to wear them anyway. She wanted to learn to fight with a sword, and she had been denied. She wanted to live in Middle-earth without fading, and they were going to deny her that, too.  
  
She comforted herself with thoughts of what she would do when she was by herself that night, and schooled her face into the sweet smiling maidenly mask her father would expect before he turned towards her.  
  
------  
  
"Is something wrong, Varda?" Morgoth asked. "You look- well, paler than you should."  
  
Varda shook her head. "Continue."  
  
"Could it be that you fear no one will catch my little Sue?" Morgoth asked, laughter flavoring his voice. "She looks as like Arwen as ever, and even acts like that. Only her mind is different."  
  
"Corrupted," said Varda.   
  
"Free," said Morgoth firmly.  
  
"Play."  
  
-----  
  
Arwen glanced around. She seemed to be by herself, definitely. Her father had long since retired to his own pavilion, and Arwen had dismissed her maids, kicking them out when they wouldn't go of their own free will. They had whimpered and simpered at her until she was sick. One had even said how wonderful it was, that she was marrying King Aragorn and was going to be Queen. Arwen had made sure to slap her especially hard, and kick her in the ass on her way out.  
  
_I'm going to be Queen all right. But in my own right, not as some mindless brood mare for Aragorn_.  
  
But now she was alone, so she could let her true self out.  
  
Carefully, Arwen opened a small wooden box that rode hidden among her other possessions and took out the thick black makeup that expressed her inner personality. She lathered it around her eyes and mouth, then used a bright red lipstick on her mouth itself. It was a strange look, but it made Arwen feel womanly, as did the dead white powder that she used on the rest of her face. This was the face of tragedy and angst, the one that she never showed anybody else.  
  
She wet her hair with water from the basin that was always filled at night, and smeared gel into the long dark tresses until they stood up in spikes. Finally, she pulled her gown off and stood revealed in only her shift. Swirling red designs were visible on her legs, symbols of death and destruction. Arwen always left them there when she rode, conscious that no one else could see them and comforted by their presence.   
  
She drew out a sheaf of parchment from her precious store and began to write down the words of inner torment.  
  
"_All that I can do is nothing,  
No one understands me like the darkness,  
And I can only retire to the stars  
And stare up and scream in misery  
Until someone comes to get me,  
Dark lover, darkness lover, darknesswouldbelover,  
Star-lover..._"  
  
-----  
  
Morgoth tried to peer over the gaming table. Varda appeared to be bent over, and there were the most undignified sounds coming from her. The gaming table was too high for Morgoth to see what was really going on, though.  
  
"Are you all right?" he asked at last.  
  
Varda straightened, and glared at him. Morgoth smiled. He was really bothering her, he congratulated himself. He had always thought that turning Arwen into a Sue might work, and apparently it was succeeding spectacularly.  
  
"Elrond could always-" Varda began.  
  
"And why would he intrude into his daughter's pavilion at night?" Morgoth inquired.  
  
Varda shook her head.  
  
"My Arwen's an expert at hiding her true nature," said Morgoth. "She'd clean up before anyone could see her."  
  
"Psychic?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Play," said Varda.  
  
------  
  
"Arwen. My Evenstar."  
  
Arwen just barely kept from rolling her eyes. She reminded herself that it was necessary to go through with the wedding first, and then she could kill Aragorn and become the Dark Queen of Gondor. "Elessar," she said, curtsying, and let him kiss her cheek.  
  
"Will you wait for me a moment, Arwen?" Aragorn asked, drawing back. "There is something I must ask your father."  
  
Arwen kept her smile in place, though inwardly she was seething. _Treat me like a female, why don't you? Exile me from the important conversations?_ "Of course. I'll wait for you in the next room."   
  
She swept through the doors, and then paused. This room wasn't half-bad. The walls were covered with tapestries that she would want to rip down, of course, since they showed trees and waterfalls, and replace with scenes of mountains and machinery, but the view was good. Arwen wandered over to look out the window, already dreaming of the knife that she would stab into Aragorn's heart that evening. Perhaps she would ask him if he wanted to try a little game. Aragorn was a bit of a pervert in bed.  
  
The door opened behind her, and Arwen glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see Elessar. A sweet smile could charm him, of course.  
  
Instead, she met a pair of eyes shining with fierce light, and recoiled, clutching her head in pain. The light seemed to stab all the way through her, flaying back the layers of her mind.  
  
A stern voice singing with sweet music said, "What have you done with my granddaughter?"  
  
_Galadriel_! Arwen hadn't seen her grandmother since she'd gone punk, and had forgotten her annoying power to see into hearts. Arwen tried to summon up the usual sweet facade she used, but nothing was working.  
  
"Grandmother..." she panted.  
  
"I know thee," said the voice behind the terrible light. "Houseless One, back to the darkness from which thou camest. Thou hast turned from the Halls of Mandos; turn now from the mind of the Evenstar!"  
  
The light was terrible. The light was cutting. The light...  
  
Arwen came back to reality with a cry, and, sobbing, flung herself into Galadriel's arms. Galadriel held and soothed her, and the touch of one who had seen the Two Trees shining in Valinor gradually soothed the evil memory from Arwen's mind, until at last there was only the Evenstar left.  
  
------  
  
Morgoth opened his mouth, and then closed it again.  
  
"Galadriel," he said at last, and the name had the sound of a curse. "She was always a nuisance."  
  
"Your Sue was worse than a nuisance," said Varda. Her voice was hoarse, her eyes swollen, but she was smiling again. "Shall we try once more?"  
  
"I almost won."  
  
"But you didn't."  
  
"I _almost_ did."  
  
"But you didn't."  
  
Morgoth glared at her, and seized a mostly shapeless piece. "A changeling Sue," he said, setting it in the middle of the board with a look of defiance.  
  
Varda clucked her tongue. "Really? That one will be easy enough to defeat..."  
  
  
  
Ugh. Oh my god. I think I just horrified myself.   
  
It's over now, though. It's over.


	6. Changeling's Carelessness

A/N: Heh! Glad everyone's having fun with this.

Now, some much-needed revenge for a certain character.

The Game of the Gods, 6  
  
Morgoth growled under his breath and looked up at Varda. "Will you _please_ stop humming that stupid song?"  
  
Varda blinked innocently at him. "Why? It's a phrase that you made popular, since you are the sower of lies. I thought you would appreciate it."  
  
Morgoth grunted and turned back to the board. Sitting there while Varda hummed "I know something you don't know," under her breath was quickly getting annoying.  
  
But as he gazed at the board, his confidence returned. He had a shapeshifter Sue, one who would join the Three Hunters and make them care more about her than Merry and Pippin. She could look like anything she wanted, so of course she would be beautiful. How in the world could this go wrong?  
  
"Hmmm-hmmm-hm-hm-hm-hm."  
  
Morgoth shook his head. "Not this time, Star-Queenie," he whispered, and nudged his Sue into motion.  
  
-----  
  
Since the beginning of time, she had existed. She had dwelt alone in the Void before descending into Arda, and even then she had been alone. There was no one else like her, no one else in existence who could flow from form to form as she could. The Valar could put on physical forms as they wished, of course, but they were primarily angelic beings and did not know the torments and hurts of a body as she did. The creature, who called herself Changeling, was always seeking a form that would win her love and happiness, and always leaving it in sorrow when she was found out.  
  
----  
  
"Shall I ask Nienna to weep for her? Or perhaps Fëanor to create a very small violin?"  
  
"Shut up, Varda."  
  
-------  
  
But now, at last, Changeling thought she had found something that could make her happy. Great forces were stirring in Middle-earth. Sauron the Great and Terrible was moving, and his ally's Orcs had captured two small creatures, Merry and Pippin. Their gallant companions were running across Rohan to rescue them.  
  
It was such a noble quest that Changeling's heart had melted, and she had decided to join them. That was why she stood on the grass of Rohan in the form of something beautiful and harmless- a female hobbit.  
  
-----  
  
"What is she going to do? Eat her way across Rohan?"  
  
"I thought you had more dignity than to turn Taniquetil into a peanut gallery."  
  
-----  
  
And here came the Three Hunters! Changeling's heart beat hard as she watched them come- the tall, war-like human known as Strider, the grace given by long-ago Elvish blood still lingering about him; the fair and noble Elf, Legolas Greenleaf, the keen-eyed Prince of Mirkwood; and Gimli, the short and stumpy dwarf. Changeling sniffed. Her business was with the scions of Kings, and not with the dwarf.  
  
She waited until they were almost upon her, and then stepped out of the high grass, causing them to halt at once. She could feel them gazing at her in wonder, and smiled. Though she had chosen the form of a hobbit for harmlessness, she had not stinted on the beauty that attended her in all of her forms. She had long auburn hair that hung to her waist in thick and gleaming plaits, and sparkling violet eyes. She knew her form was delicate, almost fairy-like, and for a hobbit she was very slender and smooth-muscled. That was a little unusual, but given the tale she would tell them, they wouldn't really notice.  
  
"Greetings, travelers," she said, dipping her head. "My name is Changeling, and I am a daughter of the warrior-hobbits of Rohan. I have heard that you travel in pursuit of two of my distant kin. I would be honored to help you."  
  
Aragorn bowed to her. "My lady, your beauty is beyond compare," he said.  
  
Legolas went to one knee. "We would be honored to have a warrior so brave with us," he said.  
  
"How did you hear?" Gimli asked.  
  
Changeling looked askance at the dwarf. He was hefting his axe and frowning at her. "I beg your pardon?'  
  
"How did you hear that we chased two hobbits?" Gimli asked. "It's not exactly spread from one end of Rohan to the other."  
  
Changeling shook her thick braids in annoyance, but kept a charming smile on her face. She just had to get through this, and then she would win the love and respect of Aragorn and Legolas. "My people are wizards as well as warriors," she said, "and I studied long with Gandalf." She remembered to bow her head in sorrow. "In the years before his loss, he taught me much of magic. I have seen the hobbits through the eyes of eagles and horses." No need to tell them that sometimes she had _been_ those eagles and horses.  
  
----  
  
"Why? Because then they won't want her?"  
  
"Shall we see how high Taniquetil is?"  
  
-----  
  
Legolas and Aragorn nodded, charmed. Gimli just frowned at her and clutched his axe. Changeling shrugged and turned away. Her business was truly with the dazzled scions of Kings.  
  
"The Uruk-hai went this way..."  
  
*****  
  
"I don't trust you."  
  
Changeling looked up with a patient smile. She had expected this. The silly dwarf felt compelled to let her know that he didn't trust her, as if that would stop her from winning the hearts of Aragorn and Legolas. Changeling knew they were enchanted already. She could tell it from the way they had looked at her long and long before falling asleep, and above all by the way they had trusted her to take the first watch. Gimli was scowling at her, of course, but then, Changeling would have been hard-pressed to tell a smile from a scowl, with him.  
  
"What do you mean?" she asked, continuing to sharpen the slender blade that hung at her side.  
  
"You're not a hobbit," said Gimli.  
  
Changeling laughed at him. "Not a normal one, of course. But I told you, the warrior-hobbits of Rohan-"  
  
"You don't have hair on your feet."  
  
"Of course not, that would be gross-"  
  
And then Changeling stopped as she realized her mistake.  
  
Hair sprouted a moment later, but by then Gimli had his axe out and was coming towards her. Changeling backed unwillingly away. She didn't want to leave Aragorn and Legolas, and she couldn't kill their companion without arousing distrust too profound for her to continue. But she could try charm.  
  
She transformed into a female dwarf, still with auburn hair and violet eyes, since she favored those colors.  
  
Gimli snorted, rolled his eyes, and chopped Changeling down without pause. Changeling fell to the ground, trying to heal the wound by transforming. But with her head half-off her neck, she was in too much pain to concentrate.  
  
She did manage to say, using magic to cling to life a moment longer, "Why- why did that fail?"  
  
Gimli smiled grimly and leaned over her. Changeling died with his last words echoing in her ear.   
  
"No beard."  
  
-----  
  
"Hmmm-hmmm-hm-hm-hm-hm."  
  
Morgoth flung up his hands. "Well, how was _I_ supposed to remember hair on hobbits' feet?" he yelled. "I never fought them!"  
  
Varda shook her head slowly, sadly. "Attention to detail, my Lord of Deception." She paused. "Shall we play again?"  
  
"Of course," said Morgoth. "And this time, I'm _certain_ that I have a Sue you can't defeat."  
  
"Really."  
  
"First Age," said Morgoth, all but spitting the words. "And rivals Lúthien in beauty."  
  
"Does she, now?"  
  
Morgoth growled and moved the piece forward. "And this time, no commentary from Taniquetil," he added.  
  
"Of course not. Though, really, that you couldn't remember beards or foot-hair doesn't auger well for your remembering enough to control all of reality."  
  
"Shut up, Varda."


	7. Deirdre's Distress

Thanks for the reviews, everyone. Here's the next part.

The Game of the Gods, 7

Morgoth placed the piece in the center of the board with absolute confidence, or confidence that might have been absolute if not for the fact that the piece fell over from his hand shaking so hard.

Varda gazed at the piece in concern. "Perhaps you should pick your Sue up, Melkor," she said. "You don't want her hurting her little head."

Morgoth started to answer, then glared at her. "You called me Melkor!"

Varda lifted her head so that she could look at him. "Yes," she said after a moment. "Do you mind that?"

"No one has called me that in a long time." Morgoth's hand clenched. "Except for Tulkas, of course, and that was only to taunt me. Honestly, I don't know how you stand him. He's so childish most of the time, gloating about how he beat me up."

"Of course he is," said Varda solemnly. "Because that is childish, while trying to destroy the world because you can't have it isn't."

Morgoth peered at her in pleasure. The light was actually dim enough around her now that he could almost see her clearly. "That is true. I'm glad you agree."

Varda rolled her eyes, then looked on the Sue and felt some mirth return. "Your move, Melkor."

Melkor bent and breathed on the Sue.

-----

Deirdre lifted her head and studied the sky. It was still gray and swollen with storm, of course, for the weeping the world had done in the wake of the War of Wrath.

But she wept more.

Deirdre sighed and turned her eyes gently to the land. The Telerin Elves in the ship around her bowed their heads and waited until she was deep in her trance of sorrow before they glanced up, shyly, at her. She was too beautiful to be looked at when she fixed her full attention on one person. She had glinting eyes that shifted colors with her moods, from bright gold when she was amused, to the soft gray that they were now, echoing the color of the sorrowful sky. Her long hair, golden as a Vanya's save for a single long black streak, hung to her ankles. But even that was subdued, and not only because of the glinting gray of the sky and the waves. Deirdre was always subdued, in sorrow for what she was and what she had come from and who her mother had been. Daughter of Lúthien and Mandos, born in the time when her mother danced before the Vala and won his heart-

-----

"Melkor!"

Morgoth grinned. Varda couldn't be that angry with him, or she wouldn't have called him by his favored name. "Yes?"

"That's sick."

Morgoth blinked. "I never thought I would hear you say something like that."

Varda just glared at him sharply and turned back to look at the Sue.

Morgoth officiously cleared his throat and started the sentence over from the beginning.

-----

Daughter of Lúthien and Mandos, born in the time when her mother danced before the Vala and won his heart-

----

"That _still _doesn't sound any better," said Varda, shaking her head. "Námo is so in love with Vairë it's disgusting."

"This is my story," said Morgoth dangerously. "If you don't like it, don't listen to it!"

There was a long pause, while Varda stared at him. "What," she said evenly, "was that all about?"

Morgoth shook his head, frowning. "I don't know, actually."

"I mean, if I can't listen to it, I can't tell-"

"Yes, I know," said Morgoth. "Let's return to Deirdre, shall we?"

----

She had been born of a true love, but a sorrowful one, given that Lúthien had a love waiting beyond the seas, and had at last gone away with him. So Deirdre had her glinting beauty, but it was doom-laden.

_But not now_, Deirdre promised herself, turning a misty gaze to the land, not noticing the way the Telerin Elves scrambled away from her eyes_. Now I will make the world right again._

******

She went walking through the camp like a fallen star, and all around her Elves and Men bowed and gave way. Some who had never yet stopped marveling at the risen star of Eärendil turned to her, looked on her beauty, and began to weep, casting themselves to their knees, marveling that Eru himself in female form had descended from the heavens.

Deirdre did not notice the adulation; she was too modest for such things. She kept her eyes turned forward, and at last reached the one who stood guarding the treasures she had come for. Eönwë, herald of Manwë, bowed in sorrow before Deirdre, and then stood and gazed into her eyes. It was a struggle even for him to gaze upon her beauty, but far easier for a Maia than for a Man or an Elf.

"What have you come for, _vanimelda?" he asked, using her name among everyone who loved her._

Deirdre ducked her head. "You know," she said softly. "This is my heritage, Eönwë. My mother won the Silmaril that shines in the sky back from Morgoth, and my father pronounced their doom. It is only fitting that I take the Silmarils now, and reverse that doom. In my hands, their light shall be released, and the Two Trees shall shine again in Valinor, and Men and Elves shall dwell in Aman side by side."

Eönwë might have objected, but one look into her eyes told him the truth. Deirdre was fit to take the Silmarils. There was no one better.

He bowed to her again, and stepped aside.

Deirdre moved gracefully forward towards those shining things. Her hands trembled just slightly as she reached out and picked them up, and for a moment held the fairest light in the universe. For the first time in her life, she found herself smiling with true joy.

_Now to_-

She screamed as the beauty in her hands turned abruptly to fire, fire that pained her, fire that cut and ate and burned at her. She wouldn't drop the Silmarils, but as she held them instinctively closer, they continued to burn. In a few seconds, they had eaten large holes in her chest, one the size of each Silmaril. Deirdre fell, dying, clutching the jewels, staring at the ceiling of the tent as it rippled in front of her eyes.

_I don't understand_! her mind wailed. _The Silmarils burn only unhallowed things, and I am not- I am not-_

The final indignity, as she saw it, was being abruptly shoved aside by two mere Elves who dashed into the tent, grabbed the Silmarils from her hands, and ran away again. And then, for no reason she knew at all, the red-haired one who had only one hand came back and kicked her in the ribs.

Then he dashed away, and Deirdre closed her eyes and passed into the Outer Darkness.

----

Morgoth stared at the board. "That's why you were calling me Melkor," he said. "You were doing it in pity for my loss."

Varda nodded. "For what," she murmured, "could be more unhallowed than a Sue?"

"Well, me," said Morgoth.

Varda nodded again, compelled to accept the justice of that. "You have another piece to play?"

Morgoth sat gazing at her for a moment, then smirked. "Yes, in fact I do." He drew forth a crowned piece.

Varda's face twisted. "_Must you? That one is disgusting."_

"As disgusting as the love of Námo and Vairë?" asked Morgoth slyly.

Varda looked at him. "You wouldn't..."

Morgoth lifted his chin stubbornly. "You let me play her, or I tell them what you said."

Varda sighed and waved a hand. "Go ahead."

Morgoth smiled smugly.

Although I wonder who's really more unhallowed...


	8. Elacathaleeleria Excoriated

As always, this is rated PG-13 for mentions of violence, and I don't own the Tolkien characters.  
  
The Game of the Gods, 8  
  
"It's your move."  
  
Varda didn't reply for a moment, still eyeing the piece that Morgoth had put forward with disfavor. Morgoth fought the urge to whine or stamp his feet. At least the stars were only about as bright as Wilwarin normally was.  
  
"I hate Sues like this," said Varda, disgust in her voice.  
  
"You hate all Sues," said Morgoth. "Why should this be different?" But he had to fight to keep from grinning. He was upsetting Varda. This was the most fun thing he had done in several Ages.  
  
Of course, almost anything was fun after being trapped in the Void, but Morgoth wasn't going to think about that right now.  
  
"Yes, but this one is particularly disgusting," said Varda.   
  
"That means that you can't defeat her, right?" Morgoth asked, his grin widening.  
  
Varda just rolled her eyes.  
  
Morgoth chuckled and sent the Sue into motion.  
  
-----  
  
"We are almost there, my Queen."  
  
Elacathaleeleria pushed her hair out of her eyes with one silver glove and nodded. "Then ride ahead, and bring me word when the walls of Rivendell are in view."  
  
The scout bowed and turned his horse, pounding on ahead. Elacathaleeleria sighed and caressed the neck of the delicate dove-gray unicorn she rode.   
  
"Sometimes," she said, "people overlook the obvious."  
  
The unicorn snorted and nodded in agreement.  
  
It was impossible for anyone to overlook Queen Elacathaleeleria of the Realm of Starhaven. She shone even now, after spending three months riding from her Kingdom of Starhaven in the far East of Middle-earth. She had long golden hair, just lightly twined with silver, that had made the Lady Galadriel of Lórien very jealous when Elacathaleeleria stopped in the Golden Wood to rest. The Queen had tried gently to persuade her out of her jealousy, but Galadriel was having none of it; she had locked herself up in her palace, and the Queen and her weary train had been forced to ride on. It didn't really matter to her people, of course, since they could look on the beauty of their Queen and be more content than they could with food or rest, but it mattered to Elacathaleeleria of Starhaven, because she hated to see her people distressed.  
  
Her eyes were large and emerald, flecked with gold; they shone with a thin line of blue when she was upset. They might have had a touch of blue now, but only because Elacathaleeleria was upset with the excessive deference of the scout. He should have brought her back a report only when they were in sight of Rivendell, as she had instructed. But he had come back before the time to gaze once more on the tender beauty of his Queen, and the wisdom and sorrow in her face. Elacathaleeleria had lost her only love, and that infused her with a light of gentleness that all who knew her huddled near, as the one shining star in the darkness of their lives.  
  
-----  
  
"Oh, go on."  
  
Varda shook her head, her lips pursed together.  
  
"You know you want to say something," Morgoth went on in the coaxing tones that had once persuaded Manwë to act like an idiot. "Say it."  
  
"There are no words for the depths of your heinousness."  
  
Morgoth grinned. "But you can't stop her, can you?" he asked softly. "Starhaven isn't on any maps, but it could be."  
  
Varda just glared at him and was quiet.  
  
----  
  
"We are nearly there, my lady."  
  
Elacathaleeleria took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. She had come to the Council of the Ring to offer her advice. Starhaven lay almost within the shadow of Mordor, and she had more experience fighting Sauron than anyone there. They _needed_ her.  
  
But she would see..._him_ again. She knew that much. Even though Sadamir had died in her arms gasping that he loved her, she would see the reincarnation of him at the Council.  
  
She had to be ready.  
  
Queen Elacathaleeleria of the Realm of Starhaven stiffened her shoulders and settled into the unicorn's gallop.  
  
******  
  
"We must destroy it, in the fires of Mount Doom."  
  
Elacathaleeleria straightened her shoulders and stepped forward. She had hesitated a long time, but now she wore the gold and green gown she had last seen Sadamir in. He would know her at once, the new incarnation, and cleave to her. And then they might cast the Ring into the fires.  
  
"No one can do so," she said, as she moved forward, brushing the guards aside as if they were nothing by the sorrow in her face, "save the Queen of Starhaven and her destined lover."  
  
And there he was, turning to face her. The beauty in his face! Elacathaleeleria had never forgotten Sadamir, but she thought he looked even better now. And while he had been kind and loving in his other life, in this one, sorrow had taught him wisdom. She could see it on his shoulders like a mantle, and she trembled, fighting the urge to gasp. She had to hold strong. They would be on the trail to Orodruin within a few hours, a pair of Elves going to repair the Elves' folly.  
  
He turned to face her. There was a long silence. Elacathaleeleria waited for the gasp of recognition, the cry of delight.  
  
Instead, he only shook his head and said, "Who are you, my lady?"  
  
Elacathaleeleria blinked. How strange that he did not know her! _But he will. He must_. "My lord, your lady. Queen Elacathaleeleria of the Realm of Starhaven. Once, you lived with me and loved me, in the form of an Elf named Sadamir."  
  
Startlement entered his eyes, and then a look of pity. "My lady," he said in Quenya, with all the gentleness of a healer and all the sternness of an eagle, "this is my only incarnation. I was born in the last days of the First Age and have dwelt in Imladris since the Second. I have never died."  
  
"But... you must..."  
  
He shook his head. "No, my lady. I have only ever been Elrond Halfelven, and I will be until I sail over Sea."  
  
Elacathaleeleria staggered, tried to catch herself on a chair, and fell. "But- I remember Sadamir. I know that you are he."  
  
"Poor woman," said a gruff voice. "She's been driven mad, surely."  
  
"But my heartbreak," said Elacathaleeleria, turning her head so that she could see Elrond as he crouched above her. "My heartbreak was the center of my life, but you are not Sadamir, you say."  
  
"I never was."  
  
She struggled to breathe. Had all the heartbreak that defined her life been a lie?  
  
It seemed that it had.  
  
Queen Elacathaleeleria of the Realm of Starhaven breathed faster, and faster. Her heart labored in her chest for a moment longer before it burst.  
  
------  
  
Morgoth stared at Varda. "You can laugh now."  
  
Varda, who had her hands clapped across her mouth, looked at him.  
  
"I know you were holding back," said Morgoth in disgust. "Go on, laugh. I suppose it's no more than what I deserve."  
  
Varda dropped her hands and burst out laughing. A corresponding burst of radiance made Morgoth fall back from the table and lie whimpering on the floor until the bad memories- and the light- faded.  
  
When he got back up, he said sulkily, "I don't see what was all that funny. Tragic love- Middle-earth is full of tragic loves. A realm far in the east- no one really knows what lies beyond Rhûn. Perhaps there's a realm there after all."  
  
"But you chose _Elrond_," said Varda. "I mean, _come on_."  
  
"'Come on?' Do you know how undignified that makes you sound?"  
  
"Do you know how undignified you look sprawled on the floor? Or getting upset about a Sue that could die of heartbreak?"  
  
Morgoth sat back down and moved forward a Sue carrying a long slender tube.  
  
Varda shook her head. "You never learn, do you?"  
  
  
  
Not as violent as some of the others, again, but that was fun.


	9. Raven Routed

Thanks for the reviews, everyone! To answer one question: Daercu Feredir, the half-Vala Sue was the daughter of Luthien and Mandos. The accented u may have messed up Luthien's name.

Another modern Earth Sue, with a little surprise at the end.

The Game of the Gods, 9  
  
"I have a challenge for you," said Morgoth.  
  
Varda, who had been glaring at the Sue that Morgoth put forward, looked up. "Really?"  
  
"Really," said Morgoth smugly. "Now, this is a Sue that comes from modern Earth-"  
  
"They all do, in some way."  
  
"You shall not distract me with your misguided attempts at cleverness," said Morgoth.  
  
Varda laughed. Morgoth flinched from the light as she said, "Morgoth, how could you recognize cleverness? The most intelligent thing you ever did was make the Orcs, because there at least you leaned on Eru's cleverness rather than your own."  
  
A Vala's teeth grinding make a very odd sound. Morgoth was making it now, but he managed to calm himself enough to say, "This Sue comes from Earth, and I want you _not_ to stop her when she goes through."  
  
"Why not?" Varda asked calmly. Morgoth let out a breath of relief. At least she was listening.  
  
"Because," he said, "I don't think that the reality in Middle-earth can defeat this one. And it's not much of a challenge, if you just stop the Sue in her own world. Don't you want to see what will happen if a modern Earth Sue is loosed to run in Arda?"  
  
Silence. Morgoth could see that Varda was tempted. He was very good at seeing when people were tempted.  
  
"You're trying to make me lose the game, of course, but I know that's what you're doing, and it's far too pathetic to get angry about," said Varda at last. "All right, play."  
  
Morgoth kept his opinion to himself, and sent the Sue into motion.  
  
-----  
  
Raven checked her weapons one more time. She was going into Middle-earth, by all accounts a dangerous place, so she had a hunting rifle, several knives, a sword, and her magical amulet that was supposed to defeat Orcs with her. Raven had made that amulet herself, using several carefully adapted Wiccan rituals. She knew that there was no mention of a Goddess in Middle-earth, of course, but the Goddess was everywhere. She would therefore be with Raven when she went to Middle-earth.  
  
Raven adjusted the hang of her sword at her hip, and smiled grimly. She was going to be _dangerous_ there. She would stride into Thranduil's palace, gun a-blazing, and rescue Prince Legolas from his enforced marriage. She didn't know yet if they were going to fall in love, but she thought there was a good chance.  
  
She spoke the Elvish words with loud confidence. "_Quendi na'raman valarie_!"  
  
The air brightened in front of her, spun around in a circle, and then froze into the perfect pattern of a five-pointed star. Raven stepped through, her long dark hair glowing in the golden light of the symbol for a moment before it faded.  
  
And Raven faded with it, going to Middle-earth.  
  
-----  
  
She opened her eyes to find herself in the intense darkness of Mirkwood. Raven smiled a little. Thanks to being part-Elvish, she could see well in the dark. She turned in the most likely direction of the palace and began walking.  
  
She was aware of small sounds in the leaf-night all around her, but she found it easy to ignore them. The amulet would protect her from Orcs, and anything else wasn't a danger. The spiders were evil, of course, but Raven was sure that she had landed far away from their territory. The Goddess had reassured her that it would be so. Meanwhile, Raven reveled in breathing the air of Middle-earth, far cleaner than the air of her own world, close and heavy though it was.  
  
Then something glimmering white darted in front of her, and Raven pulled out her rifle and shot immediately. She had good reflexes. She was part-Elvish herself, she thought, sent away to Earth for her own protection.  
  
The white deer fell in front of her, and Raven smiled. "Venison tonight!" she muttered, even as she said the proper prayer for the animal's spirit. Hunting was wrong, of course, but as long as she was sorry for it and used the whole deer, it was all right.  
  
*******  
  
It was while she was cooking the deer that Raven first became aware of the voices. They were muttering and chattering just behind her. Raven pretended she hadn't heard them while she finished her cooking and reached slowly across the fire to grasp her gun. They were Orcs, almost certainly, and she was looking forward to killing them.  
  
She stood and whirled around, shooting into the trees.  
  
There came a cry of pain, and Raven smiled in grim satisfaction. "Come out, Orcs!" she called in what sounded like English to her ears but which she knew would come out as Westron, since she'd planned it that way. "Come out slowly, and I won't hurt you."  
  
The trees swayed, but no one came out. Raven sighed. They were going to play dumb, then?  
  
"Come out, come out, wherever you are," she murmured, turning in a little circle.  
  
A particularly loud rustle came in the bushes in front of her, and Raven shot again. There was no cry of pain this time, but that could be because she'd killed the Orc. She smiled in satisfaction, and then looked up as something moved in the branches. Another shot, another wildly swaying tree, and then more silence.  
  
Then there were sounds everywhere around her, and Raven shot again, and again. This happened several times, and she was smiling at the thought of all the Orc corpses she'd pile up around her when she realized the gun was empty.  
  
She stooped to put it on the ground, and a slender figure leaped out of the trees and landed in front of her.  
  
Raven snatched up one of her knives, and then froze. She could see well enough in the light of the fire to note the gleam of gray eyes, and the fair, delicate features. This was an Elf, she realized. Surely no other than Prince Legolas!  
  
"Prince Legolas," she said, and bowed. "I am honored to meet you."  
  
Legolas paid no attention to her, instead staring hard at the empty gun on the ground. "What Orc-thing is this?" he asked, kicking the gun, and jumping when it slithered across the leaves.  
  
"No Orc-thing," said Raven. "Just my gun. I come from another world, and I come to rescue you."  
  
Legolas turned around and stared at her. Then he said, "You have shot one of my kin this night."  
  
Raven blinked, then shrugged. "I thought you were Orcs. Anyway, he'll recover, right?"  
  
"You could mistake an Orc and an Elf," said Legolas. "You carry a thing of dead steel, though as alive as a snake in your hands. You have violated the borders of Mirkwood and slain without pausing. You have wounded one of my kin. I sentence you to death." He looked up into the trees and nodded.  
  
Raven dived for her gun. Let her only load it, and then no silly Elf would be able to-  
  
The arrow that dived through her back probably wasn't as quick as a bullet, but it killed her all the same.  
  
------  
  
"You were saying?" Varda asked lowly.  
  
Morgoth sighed. "She really did think they were Orcs," he said, aware even as he spoke of how pathetic a defense that was.  
  
"No," said Varda. "They aren't. They are Elves who distrust mechanical things." She shook her head sorrowfully. "No one, not even a Sue, should shoot first and ask questions later."  
  
Morgoth smiled brightly. "Well, the next one has a sword that should protect her from _anything_- where are you going?" he added, as Varda stood up from the table.  
  
"I need a break," said Varda. "All that idiocy would contaminate me if I didn't step away from the table sometimes. But don't worry, it's only for one round, and I've brought someone else to play with you."  
  
"Manwë?" Morgoth grinned hopefully and viciously, something impossible for anyone but a Vala. He could _take_ Manwë, no trouble.  
  
"Oh, no," said Varda, sweetly. "Someone who can match you." She stepped away, and let the figure who had been waiting impatiently behind her move forward.  
  
Morgoth blanched. "You can't- how could you let him out?" he cried, cowering in his chair.  
  
"Now, Morgoth," Varda murmured, grinning like a Balrog. "If we can let you out of the Void to have some fun with Sues, surely we can let Fëanor out of Mandos for a while."  
  
"One round?" Morgoth asked, his eyes nervously on Fëanor, who appeared to be looking at his throat.  
  
"One round," Varda promised, and glided away, trying to keep from laughing.  
  
Morgoth moved his Sue forward, cleared his throat, and smiled weakly at Fëanor. "Your move."  
  
  
  
I never thought Elves would just merrily accept some Sue weapons...

  



	10. Flower of fire, and Fëanor

Thanks for the reviews, everyone! Here's the Fëanor chapter. I really had fun writing it. But then, Fëanor's my favorite Tolkien character, so that's not surprising.

The Game of the Gods, 10  
  
For long moments, Morgoth eyed Fëanor. Fëanor seemed to be eying Morgoth's throat.  
  
"Your move, I said," Morgoth repeated, irritation overcoming caution, and good sense, and memory.  
  
Fëanor shook his head. "I'll move later," he whispered, leaning forward as though to get a better look at the Sue- or the place where Morgoth's jugular would have beat if he had a jugular. Morgoth wasn't quite sure.  
  
Morgoth glared at him, upset with himself for being afraid. _He's just an upstart Elf,_ he reasoned. _One who died even before he could challenge me.  
  
One who died...  
  
Ah-ha!_  
  
"I've changed my mind," said Morgoth with false sweetness, taking the Sue he had intended to use off the board and putting another one, bristling with weapons and spiked hair, in her place. "I'm using this one."  
  
Fëanor looked at the Sue, and started laughing.  
  
"What?" Morgoth asked in irritation.  
  
"You could at least give me a challenge," said Fëanor, who was already wiping away tears of mirth. "This reminds me of the time that Aulë challenged me to create stones that could see far away. I made them in about an hour. And Aulë thanked me and took them away somewhere, even thought I could have made better ones." He frowned suddenly. "I do wonder what happened to my _palantíri_. I don't suppose you know?" He looked at Morgoth.  
  
"No, no, not at all," said Morgoth hastily, while making a mental note to speak with Sauron as soon as possible. "And I think this Sue will be more of a challenge than you realize."  
  
Fëanor yawned. "Varda promised this game would be interesting. I hope she's right."  
  
Morgoth scowled and began his story.  
  
------  
  
Juliardianselaáfalayu-  
  
------  
  
"What?" asked Fëanor.  
  
"That's her name," said Morgoth. "I don't really care if you like it or not."  
  
"Say it again," said Fëanor, who had grabbed a piece of paper and a quill from a convenient nowhere.  
  
Morgoth shrugged and said it again.  
  
------  
  
Juliardianselaáfalayu.  
  
------  
  
"Yes," Fëanor was muttering as he wrote. "A glide there, a line there, a dot there..."  
  
Morgoth watched in silence. He was well-aware that his enemy was quite talented, but he had also gone mad with boredom in Mandos. _I_, Morgoth thought sourly, _should know about that_.  
  
Fëanor sat up with a smile that managed to be arrogant all on its own, without even the addition of his voice, and pushed the paper across the table to Morgoth. Morgoth glared at the mess of scribbles, and then at the Noldo. "What is this?"  
  
"A new form of tengwar," said Fëanor promptly. "I can write your Sue's name in just three elegant letters. See?"  
  
Morgoth made out the three elegant letters, not that he wanted to. He angrily crumpled up the paper and threw it behind him.  
  
Fëanor stared at the crumpled paper for a moment, then at Morgoth with burning eyes.  
  
Morgoth cleared his throat hastily and went on with the story.  
  
------  
  
Juliardianselaáfalayu was the mightiest of the servants of Morgoth. She had the broadest sword, the fiercest desire for war, the oddest looks- bright blue hair with silver streaks and glowing golden eyes-  
  
------  
  
"The longest name..." Fëanor whispered. "Though not in my new tengwar."  
  
"Shut up," said Morgoth, and immediately regretted it as Fëanor looked at him again.  
  
"Ah, _yes_," said Fëanor. "Of course. Of course I should shut up, because criticizing your Sue is a greater crime than killing my father, or stealing my Silmarils, or slaughtering the Trees, or tormenting my son..." His voice was rising as it went on.  
  
Morgoth spoke as hastily as he could.  
  
------  
  
For those reasons, Juliardianselaáfalayu was feared, but she found that she had grown tired of fear. So she created an alter-ego, one called Flower-of-fire, and even found herself coming to think like that at times. It was as though she led two lives. Juliardianselaáfalayu was the torturer, the tormentor, the killer of Sindarin Elves from Beleriand to Eriador, the one who longed for her Lord to come back from the prisons of Valinor. Flower-of-fire was the kind one, the healer, the one who went to the Elves and taught them ways to resist Morgoth, should he ever come back.  
  
The contradiction was destroying her, even before the Noldor Elves returned. No other living thing in the world suffered such pain.  
  
------  
  
"Ah, yes, of course. Because every other living thing in the world was involved in the Kinslaying, the abandonment of Fingolfin and his people, the deaths of many of the Noldor..."  
  
"Can we concentrate on the story?" Morgoth asked nervously.  
  
"No," said Fëanor, and sprang at Morgoth across the gaming table, tipping the Sue piece off the board.  
  
------  
  
One day, Juliardianselaáfalayu felt a tremor in the earth, and knew that her Lord must have returned. She hastened to meet him, feeling Flower-of-fire withering and dying inside.  
  
She was caught in a rockslide, however, and went tumbling down the mountain, hurting her head.  
  
------  
  
"What are you doing?" Morgoth cried in fear, as Fëanor started to choke him.  
  
"Saying hello," growled Fëanor. "There are an awful lot of people in Mandos who asked to be remembered to you. _Elen síla lúmenn' omentielvo_, you bastard!" He choked Morgoth more tightly. Morgoth gasped, his flailing foot hitting the Sue piece.  
  
------  
  
Juliardianselaáfalayu recovered from the fall, only to go tumbling down the mountain. In exasperation, she rose to her feet and continued hurrying to meet her Lord.  
  
He had come back with light that enchanted her, but that he was back at all marked the end of her freedom to help the Elves. She followed him back to Thangorodrim with Flower-of-fire dying inside her.  
  
------  
  
"...don't want to see such disgraceful behavior again. Do I make myself clear, Morgoth?"  
  
Morgoth bowed his head. If only that wimp Manwë had come to deal with the fight, he probably could have gotten off with no more than a light scolding and a plea to reconsider his evil, which he could have laughed off. But Mandos had a way of making him feel like a little Ainu again.  
  
"Yes, Mandos," he said meekly.  
  
"Fëanor?"  
  
Fëanor looked up haughtily. He didn't have a scratch on him, while Morgoth was nursing a broken nose and a sore throat. "What about it?"  
  
"You won't do such a disgraceful thing again?"  
  
Fëanor laughed, leaning back in his chair. "I'm surprised that you still consider I _can_ do disgraceful things, after everything that's happened."  
  
"You will come back to Mandos, Fëanor," said Mandos in a threatening voice.  
  
"Not for the duration of this round, O Stern One," said Fëanor. "Now do go away. Morgoth was telling me the most fascinating story."  
  
Mandos glared, and strode away shaking his head. No matter how many Ages he spent in the Timeless Halls, Fëanor just got worse to deal with instead of easier.  
  
Fëanor turned attentively back to Morgoth. "Do go on."  
  
Morgoth cleared his throat impressively.  
  
-----  
  
One day, the Elves returned, chasing her Lord. Juliardianselaáfalayu saw them come, and her heart yearned within her, for there was a light in their faces that she had never seen before. But over eight of them lay a darkness that made her wonder and fear. She drifted close to them when the Balrogs fled, hiding herself in the darkness as only she could. Morgoth had put part of himself into her, and in many ways she was the daughter he had never had.  
  
------  
  
"Nor are likely to have, if you are honest with yourself," said Fëanor. "Be honest, Morgoth. Who would want you?"  
  
Morgoth thought of springing at Fëanor in turn. Then he thought of Mandos, and went back to his story.  
  
-----  
  
Even as Juliardianselaáfalayu watched, one of the elves began to burn. He was apparently dying.  
  
-----  
  
"That was _you_," Morgoth gloated.  
  
"Yes, and how long did it take you to find out about it?" Fëanor yawned. "Really, your spy system wasn't what it could be."  
  
-----  
  
Juliardianselaáfalayu pressed dreamily closer. She could see, in the tall elf with the long red hair, someone whom she could easily love. She could also see that he was under the same dark presence, like an oath, that the others were. But that oath wouldn't drive him to evil except in the last extremity.  
  
She decided that she would rush the tall elf and capture him for her Lord. Then, while he was in captivity, they could fall in love. She would keep his hope alive, and he would rekindle her Flower-of-fire.  
  
-----  
  
Morgoth looked up suspiciously. Fëanor just watched the board calmly, and glanced at him when he stopped. "Is something wrong?"  
  
"She's about to take Maedhros back into torment," said Morgoth. "You seemed most upset about your son a moment ago."  
  
"Maybe I've learned better," said Fëanor.  
  
Morgoth pushed his chair a wary distance back from the gaming table and went on with his story.   
  
-----  
  
Juliardianselaáfalayu rushed out with a loud shriek. The red-haired elf heard her, and turned, lifting his sword to clash with hers. Juliardianselaáfalayu was confident, though, that she could defeat him. Was she not the greatest swordswoman of Morgoth, greater than any of the men, and possessed of the best sword?  
  
Which was why she was quite surprised when the red-haired elf snapped her sword without pause and then drove his blade through her breast.  
  
-----  
  
Morgoth wailed as his Sue fell dead. "No! How did you do that?"  
  
Fëanor laughed, richly and joyously. "It's true that you spoke to me of swords, Morgoth, but _I_ forged my sons' blades," he said, seeming quite pleased with himself. "My crafting, against yours, and in the hands of one of my sons fresh from Valinor? It never was a contest."  
  
Morgoth glared at him, panting hard. Then he smiled and placed his next piece on the board. "It seems that the round is ended. Back to Mandos you go."  
  
"Oh, really?" Fëanor asked, standing and stretching.  
  
"Yes," said Varda, approaching behind him. "Nice as the break was for me, Morgoth is right. You know full well why we can't have you out of Mandos for long."  
  
"Reasons, reasons," said Fëanor. "I have a better reason right here." And he drew a long, slim sword from his side, so sharp that it cut the air and so thin that it disappeared when looked at straight on. It shone like ice. Varda retreated a cautious step, and Morgoth tried to hide behind the gaming table.  
  
"Fëanor!" Varda tried for a threatening tone, but it came out pleading instead. "What will Mandos say, when he finds out?"  
  
"I don't know, but he'll have to say it to you," said Fëanor. "I'm off to find someone who really has been gone too long. Farewell."  
  
And off he rushed, making a stab at Varda as she tried to catch him. The Star-Kindler recoiled, and Fëanor vanished towards Valimar.  
  
Varda stared after him for a moment, then muttered, "That's torn it. When I find out who let him near a bloody forge..."  
  
Morgoth sat cautiously back down. "But he's not coming back right now?"  
  
"No," said Varda shortly, sitting down, and continued muttering to herself. "It was probably Aulë. Him and his bloody bets!"  
  
"Shall we still play?" Morgoth asked. "If you want to go hunt for Fëanor..."  
  
"Fëanor on the loose is worse than Sues," Varda agreed, seeming tempted. Then her eyes fixed on Morgoth's new piece, and narrowed. "Except that one. I'll stay."  
  
Morgoth sighed, in both disappointment and relief. He could have cheated, with Varda gone, but on the other hand, he was rather relieved that she was here to protect him from Fëanor.  
  
He couldn't quite keep from several nervous glances over his shoulder, though.  
  
  
  
Oh, man, that was _so much fun_.

  



	11. Kennilista's Kismet

Thanks for the reviews, everyone! I really am having fun with this.

Students are driving me batty right now.

  
I think I will drive Morgoth batty instead.  
  
  
  
The Game of the Gods, 11  
  
"Move her forward," Varda snapped.  
  
Morgoth coyly toyed with the Sue, moving her forward, moving her back, dancing her up and down his shoulder. "And why should we?" he asked. "We should be careful of Varda's feelings, shouldn't we?"  
  
"You sound like Gollum when you do that," said Varda, apparently examining her nails.  
  
Morgoth slammed the piece down in the middle of the board. "How dare you!" he roared. "I am nothing like that slimy, sniveling, cowardly, schizophrenic-"  
  
"It got you to put her down, didn't it?" Varda asked smugly.  
  
Morgoth had to pause and think about that. Then he grinned at Varda. "I thought you hated this Sue."  
  
"I like to see them die," said Varda, her unblinking eyes fixed on the Sue.  
  
Morgoth shuddered a little, and then tapped the Sue.  
  
--------  
  
"We are almost there, my lady."  
  
Kennilista tossed her shining golden hair out of her eyes and gazed at the Golden Wood. Lórien was to be her home from now on, she knew, and she was to be its Queen someday- but that was a secret she carried like her heart inside of her. Only Elrond, who had reared her far and in secret from the jealous Galadriel, knew about that besides herself. Kennilista was the last of the true royal blood of Lórien, whose throne Galadriel had usurped, and she would have to wait to gather her strength.  
  
"Let us go forward," she said softly, and her escort moved forward again, around her shining dove-gray mare. Kennilista patted the faithful beast and thought soothing thoughts at her, while smiling at the boughs of the trees.  
  
_What King Elrond said is true_, she thought. _I do look like the Woods_. And she did, with her hair golden as the leaves of the mellyrn, and her skin pale as the trunks of their trees. Her eyes were silver, the color of the bright stream Nimrodel on the outskirts of the Wood.  
  
They had almost reached the trees when a voice abruptly called, "Halt!"  
  
Kennilista halted, trembling. That voice was almost the mirror of her own!  
  
While she waited, an Elf leaped from the grass and stuck a blade that glimmered like ice through her heart.  
  
-----  
  
Morgoth roared and smashed his hand down. "That doesn't count!" he screamed at Varda.  
  
Varda's eyes blazed like Laurelin on fire. "I know it doesn't count," she said darkly, and bent close to the board. "Fëanor, get out of there right now."  
  
Fëanor danced on the grass for a moment, then ran away again. Varda made a grab, but he was too fast for her, and as he turned his sword sideways it became invisible, without even its gleam to betray him.  
  
"How did he get to Middle-earth so fast?" Morgoth wondered, slumping back in his seat.  
  
"I don't think he really is in Middle-earth," said Varda, also sitting back, "any more than we are. He's in the gamespace, though, and that could be troublesome."  
  
"Not if you let me resurrect my Sues."  
  
"Well..."  
  
Morgoth assumed a pitiful expression, the same one he had worn when they bound him with Angainor. It hadn't worked on Tulkas, but Yavanna and Nienna were suckers for it, and it seemed as though Varda might be as well.  
  
"All right," Varda said.  
  
Morgoth smiled and waved his hand.  
  
-----  
  
Kennilista halted, trembling. That voice was almost the mirror of her own!  
  
She looked up and saw an Elf descending through the branches of the mallorn nearest her. His hair was long and golden, and his eyes were bright silver. Kennilista found it hard to breathe.  
  
"Who comes to the Lady's realm?" the guard asked, leveling his arrow at Kennilista.  
  
Kennilista recovered swiftly. She couldn't allow her subjects to go about pointing bows at her, even if they didn't know who she was. "My name is Kennilista," she said, leaving off the title she merited out of habit. "I was a guest of King Elrond for many years."  
  
"Lord Elrond," the guard corrected, a strange look in his eyes.   
  
Kennilista shrugged. If the common subjects of Lórien wanted to deny the King of Rivendell his title, it was of no matter to her. "I am a friend of his daughter, the Princess Arwen."  
  
The guard relaxed at once. "The Evenstar is the granddaughter of the Lady of the Galadhrim," he said, bowing. "And though you speak of them strangely, any of their friends is welcome in the Golden Wood."  
  
"Thank you," said Kennilista sweetly. "What is your name?"  
  
"Haldir."  
  
Kennilista trembled again, but thought she hid it well. Haldir had been- was- is?- the name of her lost father.  
  
Haldir gave her a strange look, then summoned a guide to the Lady of the Golden Wood with a whistle.  
  
An Elf jumped out from behind a tree and shot a precisely aimed arrow, taking Kennilista through the throat.  
  
-----  
  
Morgoth moaned and lowered his head. "Where did he get a bow?" he asked rhetorically.  
  
Fëanor heard him and answered anyway. "I made one, out of a piece of grass and a bone, of course," he said, then snorted. "If you really thought I wouldn't protect my niece's home, O Silmaril-less One, you should think again."  
  
Varda, who had been sneaking across the board on the other side, again grabbed at Fëanor, and again he leaped into the Golden Wood, with a laugh, and vanished.  
  
Morgoth looked at her. This time, he didn't even need to ask before she waved a hand, and he resurrected Kennilista.  
  
-----  
  
Kennilista rubbed her throat, which hurt for some reason, and gazed upon the fair face of Galadriel with stirring emotions in her heart. The Lady of the Golden Wood was indeed beautiful, but she was a usurper, and she sat on the throne with as much confidence as if she had a right to be there.  
  
Kennilista could hear King Elrond's advice in her head. _Do not reveal who you are until you have been in Lórien for some time. Your people will need that time to accept their Princess into their hearts._  
  
But seeing Galadriel so smug in her position, doubtless thinking that no one would challenge her ever again, was too much for Kennilista. She stood tall, and proclaimed, "I have returned!"  
  
Galadriel, who had risen to begin a doubtlessly faultlessly fake welcoming speech, stared at her. "I beg your pardon?"  
  
"I need not answer a usurper's questions!" snapped Kennilista. "Foul sorceress!"  
  
She turned around to begin her own speech, and found Haldir's arrow aimed at her once again.  
  
"No one speaks to the Lady of the Galadhrim so," he said in a low, threatening voice.  
  
Kennilista smiled winsomely at him. She was sure, now, what must have happened, and the words flowed forth from her with confidence.  
  
"She's bewitched you, Father. Once you were King of Lórien, and my mother ruled at your side as your gracious Queen. But soon after I was born, Galadriel grew jealous and plotted to take the Golden Wood. She killed Mother, and she thought she had killed me- and for long years I thought you, too, were dead. But I escaped in the talons of the eagles, who bore me to King Elrond of Rivendell. And she- the foul sorceress has bewitched you, taking your memory and not making you remember me or your throne!"  
  
"I have no daughter," said Haldir grimly, and began to bend his bow.  
  
"Wait."  
  
Kennilista turned comfortably back towards Galadriel. The usurper knew who she was. Her words would justify Kennilista's.  
  
The Lady of the Golden Wood was staring at her closely. "You are of the blood of Amroth?"  
  
"What?" Kennilista asked. "Who is Amroth?"  
  
"The last King of Lórien," Galadriel answered gently. "He was lost at sea, and his love Nimrodel in the hills of the south, and neither of them came ever back. You are claiming to be his daughter?"  
  
Kennilista shook her head impatiently. "You are not listening. Haldir was my father, and he was King of Lórien until you bewitched him."  
  
"The last King of Lórien was Amroth," said a new voice, and a tall Elf with long silver hair came forward to stand at Galadriel's side. "Haldir never ruled-"  
  
"I certainly did not," Haldir muttered indignantly. Kennilista could hear the wood of his bow creaking.  
  
"-and he has no daughter."  
  
"I certainly do not."  
  
"Who are you?" Kennilista asked the silver-haired Elf.  
  
"Celeborn, husband of Galadriel and Lord of Lórien," said the Elf, sounding amused. "Together we have ruled in the Wood for centuries. I believe we should have remembered if we deposed Haldir, killed his wife, and sent his daughter into exile."  
  
"Are you laughing at me?" Kennilista demanded.  
  
"No," said Galadriel, and she looked stern. "I want to know what purpose you have in telling this ridiculous story. At first I believed you harmless, but now I think you do intend harm. Who _are_ you?"  
  
Kennilista listened to the tale of her denied heritage with disbelieving ears. "This cannot be!" she cried. "King Elrond-"  
  
"Elrond is no more a King than I am," said Celeborn. "He is Lord of Rivendell."  
  
Galadriel nodded.  
  
Kennilista made the most defiant gesture she could think of, and sprang forward and slapped Galadriel.  
  
The next moment she was on the floor, with tremendous pain flowering in the middle of her back. Haldir's arrow was in her, she thought, and rolled over to look up into her father's face. Perhaps the flow of her blood would call to his blood and kindle his memories.  
  
But he only stared at her with hatred in his eyes, and said nothing.  
  
Kennilista put one out hand, intending to make a stuttering, dramatic dying speech.  
  
"F-f-f-f-f-father, I l-l-l-l-love y-y-y-"  
  
"Oh, for Eru's sake," said Fëanor, and cut off her head.  
  
-----  
  
Morgoth looked at Varda. "Cheating?"  
  
"Not this time," Varda cooed. "She was dying of Haldir's arrow, you know that." She paused, then shook her head. "Why do all of them think that Galadriel is royalty? Or Elrond?"  
  
"Perhaps because they are related to me, and I am too wonderful not to appear royal," Fëanor suggested.  
  
"Shut up," Morgoth snapped, before Varda could say anything. "Most of the Sue authors don't even know you exist."  
  
"What?" Fëanor asked quietly.  
  
"Fëanor-" Varda began.  
  
"I will _make_ them know I exist, before I am done," said Fëanor, and vanished into the trees of the Golden Wood once again.  
  
Morgoth stared helplessly at Varda. "He's going to keep interfering, isn't he?"  
  
Varda nodded. "And I can't let you keep resurrecting the Sues forever."  
  
Morgoth gnawed his lip for a moment, then stopped, because it hurt. Sometimes he thought he shouldn't have chosen such long fangs for teeth. "I do have a few where that would not be necessary."  
  
"Use them."  
  
"It will make the game harder," Morgoth warned her.  
  
"You haven't won yet, Morgoth," said Varda, and then smiled. "Or did you manage to forget that, in the excitement of losing?"  
  
Morgoth growled and reached under the table, into a box marked, "Difficult."  
  
  
  
I get so _annoyed_ by Sue authors assuming royalty is just around every corner in Middle-earth...


	12. Lassellee's Lamentations

Thanks for the reviews, everyone!

I think we all know by now that I do not own the Tolkien characters, and if anyone wants the Fairy Ringwraith, they can have her.  
  
Also, the ring-verse is copyright J. R. R. Tolkien.  
  
The Game of the Gods, 12  
  
Morgoth set his Sue in the middle of the board with an air of triumph. "There."  
  
Varda looked. She looked again. Her eyes narrowed. "What in the name of Nienna is that?"  
  
Morgoth started to answer, then frowned at her. "Why Nienna?"  
  
"She's always crying over this or that strange thing, and trying to bring it home to Mandos," said Varda absently, eyes locked on the Sue. "What is that?"  
  
"I told you that this was a Sue I don't have to resurrect," said Morgoth. "Because Fëanor can't kill her," he added loudly.  
  
"Boo," said a voice at his ear.  
  
Morgoth jumped and glanced over his shoulder. Of course, there was no one there.  
  
"You only make it all the more fun for him when you do that, you know," observed Varda. Her voice sounded grave, but the stars of Wilwarin sparkled.  
  
"You find this funny?" Morgoth asked her in disbelief. "You do know that you have to catch him and put him back in Mandos."  
  
Varda coughed and hastily tried to resume her calm mask. "Right. Mandos. Bad Fëanor, very bad."  
  
Morgoth peered into her eyes. Varda looked down at the Sue and raised her brows expressively.  
  
"And who is this?"  
  
Morgoth smiled and let the story tell itself.  
  
------  
  
"Three Rings for the Elven-Kings under the Sky..."  
  
Everyone in Middle-earth knows the verse that begins like that. Most do not know that there were once two more lines describing the fate of the Twenty-first Ring:  
  
"One for a Fairy lass to keep for her own,  
Until the shadows have swallowed her sigh."  
  
This is the story of that Fairy, who became a Ringwraith, and the One Ring.  
  
------  
  
Morgoth looked up to see Varda with her head in her arms. He grinned. _Now we're getting somewhere_.  
  
"Yes?" he asked sweetly.  
  
"You can't just make up Fairies," said Varda, looking up. "Or a Twenty-first Ring."  
  
"It's cheating, of course," Morgoth acknowledged. "On the other hand, we could have Fëanor and his brand of cheating back."  
  
Varda gritted her teeth. Morgoth could see her weighing the options, and finally deciding that the fairy Ringwraith annoyed her less than Fëanor's interruptions.  
  
"Go on," said Varda.  
  
Morgoth nodded.  
  
-----  
  
Lassellee stood watching the road that wound beneath her, up which the Ringbearer would soon be coming. She could feel the call of the One Ring, pulling at her, tugging her towards it and then towards Sauron. She resisted.  
  
Lassellee was unique among the Ringwraiths. While the others had once been mortal Kings, she had been Queen of the Fairies. Sauron had offered her the Twenty-first Ring, the Ring of Earth, and Lassellee had accepted it without hesitation to help her defeat a Fairy who would usurp her throne, not knowing it would bind her forever to his service.  
  
But because she had been born a Fairy, there were some differences between her and the other Ringwraiths. She could be out in sunlight with no trouble, since the Fairies were children of the sunlight, and she likewise suffered no problems of sight such as afflicted the other Riders. Though she rode a beautiful white horse, she didn't need it to see for her.  
  
She also could go invisible whenever she wanted, as well as appearing as a beautiful, luminous lady in a cloud of light. And her large, delicate butterfly wings would support her in the air. She didn't have the Ringwraiths' aura of terror, either, meaning that she could pass unseen through villages that the Nine would rouse to screaming fear.  
  
Best of all, guarded in Lassellee's heart like a secret, was the ultimate treasure: a bit of her uncorrupted by the Twenty-first Ring. She still had a good corner in her heart, and she thought she could use it to rebel against Sauron.  
  
------  
  
"You can't do that," Varda complained.  
  
Morgoth looked up. He had expected this, but oh, the words were sweeter than the shrieks of Elves becoming Orcs to his ears. "Can't do what?"  
  
"Make her that way. If no one can sense her and no one can see her, how am I supposed to kill her?"  
  
"What's the matter?" crooned Morgoth. "Is your precious reality failing you?"  
  
"Where is she?" Varda asked with a sigh.  
  
"Above the road to Bruinen."  
  
"_Oh_."  
  
Morgoth frowned. Varda had just sat back and was looking lazily at him. He emphasized, "Fairy Ringwraith. No one can see her or sense her unless she wants to be seen. And she has a bit of uncorrupted heart left."  
  
"Yes, I did hear you."  
  
Morgoth stared at her, shrugged, and then sent the Sue into play.  
  
-----  
  
And here came the Nine, charging after the white Elf-horse that bore the hobbit. Lassellee smiled in contempt. She could see a little way into the future-  
  
-----  
  
"Not far enough, apparently," said Varda.  
  
Morgoth started and glared at her. "Will you stop that? If you were going to kill her, she would know. She _can too_ see a little way into the future."  
  
"Yes, but you don't know how she's going to die, so she can't know. Her faculties are limited by your own, which means they are most painfully limited indeed."  
  
Morgoth sat back and scowled, trying to think of some way that Lassellee could die when no one could see her, and her horse would probably be mistaken for another Elf-horse.   
  
He still couldn't think of any, so he said, "I'm playing her."  
  
"As you will," said Varda, with a little sigh that couldn't hide her grin.  
  
Morgoth sent Lassellee into play, contenting himself with the thought that Varda was probably bluffing.  
  
-----  
  
The black horses would drown in the River, Lassellee knew. The Ringbearer would be safe once he got to the other side.  
  
Which meant that she would just have to reach him before then.  
  
Lassellee smiled and touched her heels to the flanks of her white mare, Windfoot. Windfoot snorted softly and leaped down the hill, running marvelously fast. Lassellee gently beat her own wings to urge Windfoot along.  
  
In seconds they skimmed past the black horses, and then Lassellee knew she would be able to reach Frodo. There were just a few people standing in her way: hobbits, and a human, and an Elf. She went invisible, and they saw only a white horse galloping towards them. Of course, in the Unseen Lassellee couldn't see them either, but she knew they were there and she could just ride around them.  
  
Then she suddenly saw a blaze in front of her, and realized the Elf had appeared again, somehow following her into the Unseen. With a frown, Lassellee shifted back to the Seen. Even if they could see her, they couldn't harm her.  
  
But the Elf was there, too. Lassellee realized with a shock of fear that he was blazing in both worlds, and that he had a sword in his hand that flared with a similar light.  
  
Words in the tongue of the Noldorin Elves cut at her ears like swords.  
  
"Back to the Shadow that you came from, Dark One."  
  
Lassellee only ever felt the sword slam into her. She was caught between Seen and Unseen, and, wailing, felt her being dissolve as Glorfindel's sword cleft her in twain.  
  
-----  
  
Morgoth kicked a table leg.  
  
"Now, now, Morgoth, don't sulk," said Varda as soothingly as she could. "I'm sure that someday you'll come up with a Sue that does manage to take into account certain features of Middle-earth, including Elflords who live in the Seen and Unseen at once."  
  
Morgoth stuck his lower lip out. "This isn't fun anymore," he whined.  
  
"Do you want to stop playing?"  
  
Morgoth almost said yes, and then thought about it. If he said yes, it was a long walk back to the Void.   
  
And Fëanor was out there somewhere, with a big long sharp sword and a temper to match.  
  
"No," he whimpered.  
  
Varda grinned at him. "Then choose your next piece."  
  
Morgoth went back to rooting in the "Difficult" box.  
  
"Boo," said a voice at his ear.  
  
Morgoth didn't turn around this time, assuming it was just some silly trick, probably of Tulkas's.  
  
Then the sword poked him in the shoulder, and he turned around just in time see Fëanor running away.  
  
Morgoth growled at that and reached to the very, very back of the box.  
  
He would show Fëanor.

Honestly, why do people make Fairies up? It's not as if they really add anything to Middle-earth.

  



	13. Navaree's Not so good Day

Thank you again for the reviews! I'm really glad that people are enjoying this.

The Sue in this part is rather exotic, because she combines two of my pet peeves: environmentalist Sues and turning Middle-earth into Generic Fantasyland. And she necessitates two disclaimers: the Tolkien characters don't belong to me, and neither do the avariel. They belong to D&D, and I'm not claiming them.  
  
  
  
The Game of the Gods, 13  
  
Varda raised her head. "Morgoth, what's the matter? You're taking forever getting the next Sue. Just pick out the one in Valinor and get on with it."  
  
Morgoth's head popped up over the table. "How did you know that I was going to pick one set in Valinor?"  
  
"You curse Fingolfin when you're planning a Sue that doesn't land in the Ring Quest," Varda explained calmly.  
  
"Really?" Morgoth sat up and put his Sue on the board. "I thought I would curse Fëanor."  
  
"No, that's when you're bluffing." Varda stared at the Sue and shook her head. "You're quite sure that you want to do this?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"She won't land in Valinor."  
  
"Yes, I know." Morgoth managed a weak smile. "Someone had a little...talk with me about that."  
  
Varda eyed the trickle of blood running from a sword wound in Morgoth's shoulder. "I see." She glanced at the Sue. "Well, put her in motion. I need another break after this, and I'll need to find someone else to play for me."  
  
The air near her gave a hopeful whine.  
  
"Not you, Saruman, so don't even ask."  
  
The air grumbled, and the Sue went into motion.  
  
------  
  
Navaree stretched her wings and looked up at the sky. She had lingered here long enough, and knew it was time to leave.  
  
Her parents and brothers and sisters had long since left, after they had given up trying to persuade her to come with them. They knew that the Mirkwood Elves were getting too violent and starting to kill all the magical creatures of the Forest, like unicorns-  
  
------  
  
"Morgoth..." Varda's voice was a growl.  
  
"There might be unicorns," said Morgoth. "How do you know there aren't unicorns?"  
  
Varda only shook her head.  
  
Morgoth smiled and returned to the story.  
  
-----  
  
-and pixies and werewolves.  
  
-----  
  
"Pixies? _Pixies_?"  
  
"How do you know there aren't?" Morgoth asked. "Maybe they all hid in the depths of Mirkwood because the Elves hunted them."  
  
"The Elves didn't hunt them, because there were no pixies to hunt," said Varda, simmering like Arien.  
  
Morgoth whispered loudly, "That's what you think," and went back to Navaree.  
  
------  
  
Navaree knew the Mirkwood Elves were too violent, but she had stayed to escort the last pixies to safety. Now she had to leave, and go and spare the life of another wonderful magical creature that the Elves and humans would hunt to death, if they could.  
  
She glanced at a mirror that hung on the wall, admiring the pure white of her wings, which she thought went well with her golden eyes and skin pale as marble and pale hair. She was an avariel, a winged elf, one of the gentlest and most peaceful race of people on the planet. She and her people had learned to live without war or hunting and make the most beautiful music in the world, but the other Elves had grown jealous of them and driven them forth.  
  
-----  
  
Varda sighed and tapped the table.  
  
"Something _bothering_ you, Varda?" Morgoth asked.  
  
"No avariel," said Varda. "Send her back to wherever she came from."  
  
"But she doesn't snap Middle-earth just by being there," Morgoth pointed out. "No more than my Fairy did." He scowled a little at the thought of what had happened to Lassellee, then continued. "You can't prove that the avariel don't exist. They might. There's Harad, and Rhûn, and the north of Middle-earth. The avariel might live there for all you know."  
  
"Just keep going," said Varda, putting her hand over her eyes. "Do I even what to know what rare magical creature she's going to go save?"  
  
-----  
  
She had heard that there was a last dragon in the Lonely Mountain, and she was going to save it. The humans slaughtered dragons, ripped them apart, smashed their eggs and forced them to fight, when they should be able to see that the dragons just wanted peace.  
  
-----  
  
"You _made_ them for war, Morgoth."  
  
"There was a secret group of peaceful dragons you didn't know about," said Morgoth haughtily.  
  
Varda glared.  
  
"That works for everything," said Morgoth happily, and turned back to Navaree.  
  
------  
  
Navaree flew strongly to the north, her wings beating with power and grace at the same time, her shadow running before her like a bird. The people her shadow touched started and glanced up, then stared in wonder. She seemed an angel sent to fly over Middle-earth.  
  
------  
  
"Morgoth, there aren't any angels in Arda." Varda sounded as if she were pleading by now. "You know that."  
  
"But they don't know that," said Morgoth, gesturing to the staring people in the gamespace. "Besides, Gandalf might have been an angel."  
  
Varda sighed.  
  
-----  
  
Navaree gasped when she saw the dragon, Smaug, roaring towards her. Someone had disturbed him already, she thought, perhaps slaughtered his mate or smashed his eggs.  
  
Flying towards him, she spoke in the secret tongue of dragons. "Avad kschiteran kswhat?" _Will you let me fly with you?_  
  
Smaug glanced at her. He hadn't seen an avariel in years, and didn't recognize her at first. But after he breathed one blast of fire, he recognized her, and agreed that she could fly with him.  
  
Together, they headed towards the town that Navaree knew lay on a large lake. Together, perhaps they could persuade the humans not to hurt the dragon.  
  
-----  
  
"That's not even a well-made badly-made-up language."  
  
"Yes, but you think Quenya is a stunningly pretty language, Varda. I wouldn't really trust your opinion."  
  
-----  
  
Navaree gasped as Smaug breathed out flame over the town. It went up at once, of course, and she flew behind him crying out in the dragon language, "Naveret kpstyan!" _Stop! Please stop!_  
  
But then she saw that not all the humans were running. In fact, one of them was bending an arrow to aim at Smaug's breast.  
  
Navaree flew downward as fast as she could. If she could just get to the man and plead for Smaug's life, point out that he was only an innocent animal and the humans must have provoked him...  
  
She saw the human had a bird sitting on his shoulder, and relaxed a little. He couldn't be all bad if he could talk to birds.  
  
Abruptly the bird fluttered and danced on the man's shoulder, and he turned and loosed the arrow.  
  
Navaree cried out in anguish to think of the magnificent dragon's death, until she realized that the arrow was heading straight for her. She tried to take off, but the arrow went through her wing. She spiraled down into the lake, vainly fluttering to get to the shore.  
  
She would have managed to swim to shore, she thought, but a burning piling falling on her head quite effectively put an end to that. The last sound she ever heard was Smaug's death-shriek.  
  
Well, the last sound but one. She was quite sure that she heard the cackling song of thrush-laughter, too.  
  
-----  
  
Morgoth shook his head. "That _was_ cheating, Varda. You know Bard didn't have two black arrows capable of killing a dragon."  
  
Varda grinned at him. "Can you prove he didn't?"  
  
There was a long, reflective pause. Then Morgoth said, "That is very annoying."  
  
"Yes, it is," Varda agreed.  
  
Morgoth sighed. "Very well. The next round?"  
  
Varda frowned and stepped back from the table. "I meant it, about finding someone else to play for me," she said. "But I don't know where-"  
  
A bundle dropped abruptly into the middle of the gaming table, making both the Valar jump. Morgoth cautiously edged forward and touched the bundle, then jumped back again when it started kicking.  
  
Varda examined the note tied to the blanket. "It's from Fëanor," she said, unwrapping a fold of the cloth.  
  
"And you're _touching it_?" Morgoth shrieked.  
  
Varda hesitated, then stepped back. "You're right," she said. "He said he found someone to play the game for me, but knowing Fëanor..." Her voice trailed off, and they watched apprehensively as the blankets stirred.  
  
They unpeeled at last, revealing a very angry and frustrated Elf. He stared at Varda in complete bewilderment.  
  
Varda grinned. "Ah, yes. The game will do him good, and give me a break." She nodded to the Elf. "Welcome home, Maglor. Do enjoy the game." She turned and hurried away again.  
  
Maglor's gaze went to Morgoth, and he paled. "Game?"  
  
Morgoth smiled sweetly. "Yes, a game." _Ah, this will be easy. The most soft-hearted of Fëanor's sons. How hard can it be?_


	14. Amaryllis Amazed

A/N: Thank you for the reviews! Maglor's turn now.

Don't own the Tolkien characters, as per usual.

The Game of the Gods, 14  
  
Morgoth smirked at Maglor, and was pleased to see that the Elf, unlike his terrible father, drew backwards. Of course, Maglor never had had the heart to do what was necessary, Morgoth thought comfortably. He had never managed to enter Angband, for example.  
  
_But then, when someone did, they managed to steal a Silmaril from me..._ Morgoth cursed silently to himself, as he always did when he thought of Beren and Lúthien, and willed his mind away from them; Sauron said it wasn't pleasant to dwell on your negative emotions. He scowled at Maglor. Maglor cowered.  
  
"This won't be much of a challenge," said Morgoth, and sent his Sue into action. He wanted to see just how much he could get away with.  
  
-----  
  
Amaryllis Silverhawk glanced up at the heights of the Emyn Muil and sighed to herself. Her charges were lost somewhere among them, and she had to dig them out.  
  
"It figures," she muttered, hopping onto the rocks and crossing them with Elvish grace. "Of course they would manage to get lost when they're only supposed to take the Ring to a bloody fiery mountain."  
  
Amaryllis wouldn't get lost, of course. She was the second daughter of Elrond Halfelven-  
  
-----  
  
"Elrond?" Maglor asked timidly. "But he only has one daughter."  
  
Morgoth scowled again. "You don't understand the rules of the game at all, do you?" he asked silkily, inwardly marveling at how easy it was to intimidate a Fëanorian.  
  
Maglor licked his lips. "I understand that Elrond only has one daughter," he said, firming his spine.  
  
Morgoth rolled his eyes. "But can you think of a way that that fact could trap her? That's the way you have to play the game. If you can't think of reality that actually opposes and kills my Sue, then you have to let her go on existing." He looked down at the gaming table, which had altered, as it usually did, from something that almost looked like a chess set to a sharp image of Middle-earth. Right now, Amaryllis was frozen in mid-climb, and Morgoth wanted her out so she could wreak havoc.   
  
"Father said-"  
  
Morgoth leaned forward and smiled at Maglor, which made Maglor stare at him. "Maglor," he said gently, "this is your _father_ we're talking about."  
  
Maglor considered that for a moment, then said, "Yes, I think I see what you mean."  
  
Morgoth nodded, pleased, and turned back to the story.  
  
-----  
  
She was the second daughter of Elrond Halfelven, the younger and the prettier. Her sister Arwen was only interested in staying home and dreaming about marrying a King someday. But Amaryllis was truly concerned for the fate of Middle-earth, and she would follow Frodo and Sam to Mordor. She should really have been sent with the Ring in the first place, she considered. The Ring had no power over her.  
  
-----  
  
"I thought-"  
  
Morgoth looked up again, annoyed. Was he going to have to coax his opponent every step of the way? Why couldn't Maglor just be quiet and let him win? He knew Amaryllis would win; he had planned carefully, so that there was no reality in Middle-earth to catch her. "Yes?" he snarled.  
  
"I thought no one could resist the Ring," said Maglor.  
  
"Yes, that's right," said a voice from behind Morgoth.  
  
"Do shut up, Sauron," said Morgoth absently, staring at Amaryllis. He would have to work in some description of her hair and eyes, he decided; it was essential. "Do you want to cause evil and untold chaos in Middle-earth or not?"  
  
Silence. Sauron was probably off sulking somewhere, Morgoth thought. He smiled at Maglor and returned to the story.  
  
-----  
  
The Ring had no power over her. Amaryllis was gracious and pure of heart, and strong enough in herself to throw off her father's concerns. And if she could resist her father wanting her to be a lady, then she could do anything.  
  
-----  
  
"What has my foster-son become?" Maglor asked, sounding shocked. "He would have restrained his daughter from doing what she wanted to do?"  
  
Morgoth glared at him. "This is all part of the game."  
  
"Did Elrond restrain Arwen?" Maglor persisted.  
  
"I have no idea," said Morgoth in irritation. "I really couldn't care less how those two conduct their lives of flouncing and sighing and healing hobbits. Can we just get on with the game?"  
  
Maglor folded his arms and glared. Morgoth snorted. It wasn't up to his standards, but at least his enemy was trying.  
  
-----  
  
"I don't know, Sam." The voice was hoarse with exhaustion. Amaryllis rolled her eyes and sped her pace.  
  
"We're lost, then, Master Frodo."  
  
"No, you're not," Amaryllis announced, stepping out from behind a rock.  
  
The hobbits gazed on her in astonishment. Her beauty nearly blinded them. After all, she had bright violet eyes that shone like the light of Eärendil, and long silver hair that might have recalled to them the light of Telperion, had either of them ever seen such a thing.  
  
-----  
  
"Surely her Teleri blood would be too distant to give her such silver hair," Maglor said mildly.  
  
Morgoth scowled at him. His enemy was up to something. "This is a Sue story. It really doesn't matter. She can have all the silver hair and violet eyes she wants. Unless you can think of a way that Elwë would suddenly pop out from behind a rock and kill her...?"  
  
"Tempting, but no," Maglor muttered. "I have a better idea."  
  
Morgoth laughed at him and turned back to Amaryllis.  
  
-----  
  
Sam spoke first. "Who are you, my lady?"  
  
"Amaryllis Silverhawk, daughter of Lord Halfelven," said Amaryllis. "And you've lost your way, haven't you?"  
  
Both hobbits bobbed their heads sheepishly.  
  
Amaryllis rolled her eyes. "Never send a hobbit to do an elf's job," she said. "Or a man to do a woman's job, either. Come on. I know the way to the Fiery Mountain." She turned and led them across the peaks, ignoring their complaints about their feet hurting. Stupid hobbits. There was only so much she could take of them. She would take the Ring, she decided, and make her own way to Orodruin tonight.  
  
-----  
  
Morgoth heard a slight sound, and looked up. Maglor was whistling, leaning back against his chair and tapping his hand on the table.  
  
"What are you doing?" Morgoth snapped.  
  
Maglor winked at him and sang aloud.  
  
"Oh, he'll be chained up in Mandos when Eru comes,  
When He comes!  
He'll be chained up in Mandos when Eru comes,  
When He comes!  
He'll be chained up in Mandos, he'll be chained up in Mandos,  
He'll be chained up in Mandos when Eru comes!"  
  
"That is annoying," said Morgoth.  
  
"Not as annoying as your Sue," Maglor said, and smiled sweetly. "Aren't you going to play?"  
  
Morgoth snorted and went back to playing, but his mind was thinking, uneasily now, that Maglor was indeed a Fëanorian.  
  
------  
  
Amaryllis sighed as she gazed down at Frodo. She knew he was brave, to volunteer to carry the Ring so far, but only an Elf could do this, and only a woman. She had heard a prophecy from her mother that proclaimed it. Of course, her father and the other men denied it, but they were just wrong.  
  
She touched the chain of the Ring around Frodo's neck.  
  
Abruptly, she heard the most awful sound behind her, and before she could turn, a pair of hands grabbed her neck. They began to squeeze the life out of Amaryllis, while a voice hissed in her ear, "It wantss to touch the Preciousss? We showss it whats it's missing, yes Precious!"  
  
------  
  
"Gollum," said Morgoth heavily.  
  
"You forgot about him," said Maglor, buffing his nails on his tunic and looking at them. "You always forget about something."  
  
"Well, anyway," said Morgoth, "that's the round done, and-"  
  
"Not quite yet," said Maglor.   
  
"What do you mean?" Morgoth asked warily.  
  
"She's not dead yet."  
  
-----  
  
Amaryllis tore at the hands that gripped her, but she had wasted too much of her strength in thinking she was better-  
  
-----  
  
"Hey!"  
  
-----  
  
-and didn't have the strength to dislodge the little creature. She fell to the ground, her head ringing, and died in the midst of muttering about the Precious. Then, while her body was still warm, Gollum dragged it away and dug into it to begin eating.  
  
-----  
  
"_All right_." Morgoth clapped his hands over his ears.  
  
-----  
  
She had used her muscles quite a lot, so was tough and gamy, but the heart was healthy and tasted rather good.  
  
-----  
  
Morgoth waited, then cautiously lifted his hands off his ears.  
  
-----  
  
Then Gollum wiped the blood from his lips and went back to the Ring.  
  
-----  
  
"All right, all right, you win," said Morgoth in frustration. "I thought you needed counseling of some sort, not this bloody game."  
  
Maglor grinned, stood, and called, "Father! It worked!"  
  
Morgoth ducked behind the gaming table as Fëanor appeared next to Maglor. "Good," he heard Fëanor's voice say. "I wondered if we could make Morgoth look like a fool in a new and varied way."  
  
Morgoth wanted to poke his head up and say something, but he was too busy crowding Sauron for space under the table.  
  
"Maglor?" Varda's voice asked.  
  
"Later," said Maglor.   
  
"Not much later," said Fëanor, and when Morgoth looked up, both of them were gone.  
  
Shaking, he sat down and watched Varda come back to the gaming table. He had dared to hope it might be over, but then he took a good look at the Valië. Her face was pale, telling him she probably didn't have good news.  
  
Abruptly, Tulkas and Ulmo marched out of the nowhere and stood behind Morgoth. He glanced at them uneasily, then glared at Varda. "What'd I do?"  
  
"Not you," said Varda. "They're your bodyguards. I'm afraid there was, ah- a security problem in Mandos."  
  
"A security problem?" Morgoth repeated faintly.  
  
"Yes." Varda licked her lips. "It looks like Fëanor didn't have time to free everyone he wanted to free, but Maedhros is out. And- I really don't know how he did this, since he shouldn't even have known where the Men _were_..."  
  
"Yes?" said Morgoth tensely.  
  
"He somehow sneaked Túrin back into the world, too."  
  
Sauron had to move hastily out of the way as Morgoth fainted.

Most soft-hearted of the sons of Fëanor.

Right.


	15. Rose Reminded

Yes, I admit this chapter attacks a stupid and special Sue cliché that I hate. I love the LOTR movies in general, but there's one scene I wish had not been filmed...  
  
  
  
Rated PG-13, and don't own the Tolkien characters.  
  
The Game of the Gods, 15  
  
Morgoth concentrated on moving his next Sue into position, ignoring Tulkas poking him in the back.  
  
"You're ugly," Tulkas whispered.  
  
"If you can't come up with any more than those childish taunts, I won't pay attention to you," Morgoth sniped.  
  
"Wasn't so childish when I was wrestling you to the ground and casting you upon your face," Tulkas replied. He sighed. "Good times."  
  
Morgoth didn't trust himself to reply to that, and just set the Sue on the gaming table.  
  
Varda looked at her and burst out laughing, nearly blinding Morgoth.   
  
"What's that thing around her neck?" Varda asked, when she had calmed down.  
  
"The reason for the story," Morgoth snapped, and launched into it so that he didn't have to listen to any more of these pesky Valar.  
  
-----  
  
Rose woke to the thump of hard feet and the stink of Orc below her nose. She tried to sit up, in a panic, but she found an arm gripping her. She screamed for help.  
  
"Shut up, Elf!" someone snapped at her.  
  
Rose closed her eyes tightly and concentrated. A moment later, she sighed in relief. Yes, her immortality necklace was still around her neck, and that meant that she wasn't mortal yet.  
  
------  
  
"Even if those things were real," said Varda, "a _necklace_? That can be snapped, or stolen, with a single tug? Why?"  
  
"They're delicate," said Morgoth. "And pretty."  
  
"Always knew you were a sissy," said Tulkas.  
  
Morgoth looked pleadingly up at Ulmo. Ulmo gazed back at him, and stank of seaweed.  
  
Morgoth turned sulkily back to his game.  
  
------  
  
Rose wasn't used to being in such an indelicate position. She was the Princess of the Elves, daughter of the High King, and she usually walked in the gardens and sang of love and springtime. But she had gone to the Council of Elrond, and volunteered to accompany the Ringbearer on his quest. Then, when the Fellowship broke, she had tried to rescue Merry and Pippin, and instead had become captured with them.  
  
And she got this for it. The Orcs were probably taking her to Saruman, or else to Sauron.  
  
Rose glanced around again, and noted Merry and Pippin in the grip of two Orcs nearby. They looked awful, bleeding and beaten, and Rose's gentle heart ached to help them. But she would have to wait until the Orcs let them go for a little while.  
  
She closed her eyes and worked one arm free, clutching her immortality necklace, a blue star on a silver chain, for strength.  
  
******  
  
"Here, Elf."  
  
Rose looked with loathing at the food the Orc threw her, and then up into its face. "I'm not eating that, you pig!" she snapped.  
  
So beautiful was the Elf-maid in her defiance that the Orc did not insist, but actually went and fetched her some clean water, a spark of kindness touching its heart for an instant.  
  
------  
  
"Morgoth..."  
  
"What?" Morgoth complained. "That wasn't even over the top, not really."  
  
"Not that." Varda's voice sounded strange as she held out a letter to him. "Thorondor just brought this for you."  
  
Morgoth sighed and snatched the letter. Sometimes he still got messages from confused Balrogs, who didn't understand that the First Age was definitely over and all the Noldor had left a long time ago.  
  
The letter, however, was written in unfamiliar handwriting, and didn't have any of the burn holes that Balrogs inevitably made when they attempted to write. Morgoth wondered who it was from, but wasn't left in suspense that long.  
  
_Dear Morgoth,  
  
Yes, I still hate you. And yes, you will still feel the bite of my blade. That whole making me sleep with my sister thing was just_ wrong._ You bastard.  
  
Just wait for it. One day when you're least expecting it, I will be behind you.  
  
Sincerely, and I hate you,  
  
Túrin._  
  
Morgoth looked up at Varda. "I want to talk to Mandos," he said.  
  
Varda blinked at him. "Why?"  
  
"Túrin's harassing me," argued Morgoth, holding out the letter. "There's got to be a law against that, and he would know it."  
  
Varda's lips twitched. She looked down too late, and Morgoth saw it.  
  
"You think this is _funny_," he said, not making it a question, since there wasn't one.  
  
"Just play, Morgoth," said Varda.  
  
-----  
  
Rose drank the water and then lay back on the grass, watching the Orcs. She couldn't understand their language, but a quickly whispered spell of tongues took care of that.  
  
"We'll bring the Elf to our master," one was saying to the leader. "And then Saruman will do with her as he pleases, and become immortal himself."  
  
"Of course," laughed the leader. "Why else were we sent?"  
  
Rose drew back, an expression of horror spreading over her face. Of course! Saruman might want the Ring, but it was not why he had sent this detachment of Orcs. She was beautiful enough that he wanted to take and wed her by force, and take her immortality necklace so that he could become immortal.  
  
She clenched her fists in front of her. _Just let me near a sword, and I won't let that happen_.  
  
-----  
  
"Um, Morgoth..."  
  
This time, Morgoth was expecting it. The spell of tongues part was a bit over the top. But Varda was holding out a package to him instead, at least with one hand. The other hand was holding her nose.  
  
Morgoth unwrapped the package curiously. He had smelled worse things in his time, including Balrogs in breeding season. But the package contained only a badly decayed hand. Wondering, Morgoth turned to the note that was also included with the hand.  
  
_Dear Dark Enemy of the World,  
  
I thought you would want this back, since you went to so much trouble to get it. Took me a bit of searching, but I found it. Soon enough you'll have the other one, too- burying a blade in your heart.  
  
Yours in bloodthirsty vengeance,  
Maedhros._  
  
Morgoth shuddered.  
  
"That bad?" Varda asked.  
  
"Let's just play," Morgoth whispered, shoving the hand away.  
  
------  
  
"Well, well. So they have brought me the treasure I desired above all else."  
  
Rose stared stiffly ahead, and tried to feel glad. She had sacrificed herself so that Merry and Pippin could escape, creating an illusion of herself running away. The hobbits had gotten free in the chaos that followed, but Rose had to maintain the trance to maintain the illusion, and so when she collapsed of exhaustion the Orcs had found her again. Now she stood in the upper room of Orthanc, watching Saruman as he paced around her.  
  
He grabbed her chin and smiled into her face. "Do you know what I will do with you, my pretty?" he asked.  
  
Rose eyed his staff. If she could just grab it-  
  
Then he reached up and yanked her immortality necklace off.  
  
-----  
  
"Not again!" Morgoth roared. "We were just getting to the good part!"  
  
"A present from Fëanor and Maglor, this time," said Varda, holding out a small box.   
  
Morgoth opened it gingerly. Immediately a small Elven figure holding a sword began to hit a dark figure over the head with it, and a tinny voice began to sing:  
  
"Oh, he'll be chained up in Mandos when Eru comes..."  
  
Morgoth slammed the music box shut and threw it across the room. Of course, that only caused the lid to pop open and the music begin to play, at least for a little while. Then it stuck on one line and started repeating it over and over. Morgoth did his best to ignore that, as well as Tulkas's snickering, before he turned back to the gaming board.  
  
"The good part," he said.  
  
"The good part," agreed Varda. "Although not for the reason you think."  
  
-----  
  
Rose screamed aloud, and then stopped. She was still alive. She hadn't gone into a coma. And because she hadn't given the immortality necklace to Saruman of her own free will, she hadn't surrendered her immortality (a/n: like Arwen with Aragorn, u know???)   
  
-----  
  
Varda winced as the high-pitched voice bounced through the room, reciting the author's note. "That is one of the more annoying tricks you've pulled."  
  
Morgoth nodded. He would have enjoyed it more had it lasted longer, to compete with the skipping music box.  
  
-----  
  
"You cannot harm me," Rose declared exultantly. "I am still immortal!"  
  
Saruman snorted at her. "You always were, you silly Elf. You are immortal, not the necklace."  
  
Rose lifted her chin. "Then I'll survive," she said.  
  
"Not even Elves survive being tossed from towers and eaten by Orcs," said Saruman, and tossed her out the window to the waiting hordes below.  
  
The Orcs agreed that she mostly tasted like goose.  
  
------  
  
Morgoth sighed and put his head in his hands, then looked up at the flapping of wings. Thorondor dropped a message on the table, and Morgoth started to reach for it, with a feeling of dread.  
  
"It's addressed to me," Varda pointed out dryly, and snatched it. She needed only a moment to read it. Then her face paled, and she stood, trembling.  
  
"Bad news?" Morgoth asked hopefully.  
  
"My husband is a bloody idiot, sometimes," said Varda. "He's the one who's been telling Mandos it would be all right to let some of the inhabitants walk around near the walls, because it might make them feel better. We have our security breach." She looked at the gaming table. "I need another break. I'll need to give Manwë a severe talking-to."  
  
"What will I do?" whined Morgoth.  
  
Varda looked at him. "We could send you back to the Void- escorted by Ulmo and Tulkas, of course."  
  
Morgoth looked up at Tulkas. Tulkas immediately looked away and began to whistle innocently. Morgoth shuddered. The bully would probably think it was _fun_ when Túrin was coming at Morgoth with that black sword of his.  
  
And Ulmo...Ulmo always listened to everything. He would listen to Morgoth's enemies, too, and they might persuade him to stand aside.  
  
Morgoth faced Varda and shook his head fervently. "I'll stay here," he squeaked.  
  
Varda looked at him in exasperation. "The only reason we brought you out of the Void is to play this game. You need a partner, and I told you, I can't stay."  
  
"Can I pick a partner?" Morgoth asked on impulse.  
  
Varda narrowed her eyes. "Yes."  
  
"You would let one more person out of Mandos?"  
  
"For this, yes. Who is it?"  
  
Morgoth closed his eyes. What kind of opponent did he want?  
  
Well, he wouldn't mind someone who was cruel and hard-hearted, as long as he wasn't good at hiding it like Maglor. And someone who was ineffectual would be best of all. Someone whose plans were always getting foiled. Someone who got betrayed because of his own nature. Someone who had never really achieved much at all...  
  
Morgoth's eyes popped open. "Celegorm," he declared firmly.  
  
Varda raised an eyebrow. "Done," she said. "I'll tell Mandos. Oh, it looks like someone has one more message for you," she added, as a pair of eagles swooped over Morgoth and dropped another package on his lap.  
  
Varda left. Morgoth sighed and opened the package, then frowned. It seemed to be a flower of some sort, with a bulb attached to the end. He squeezed it gingerly.  
  
Acid sprayed out, and would have hit him in the face if he hadn't known something about Fëanor.  
  
Tulkas giggled.  
  
Morgoth closed his eyes. It was going to be a long time until Celegorm arrived.


	16. Swan Swept Away

A/N: Thank you for the reviews, everyone! I'm stunned by the enthusiasm for the story, and glad that you're having as much fun reading as I am writing.

Miss Kaltia, I'd be honored if you want to use the letters to Morgoth. As long as you credit me, quote whatever you like.

I'm looking forward to this one.  
  
  
  
Don't own Celegorm or Morgoth or any of the other recognizable Tolkien characters appearing in this one. And I am ashamed to admit I made up these Sues.  
  
The Game of the Gods, 16  
  
Morgoth rubbed his hands as Celegorm sat down on the other side of the table. "This should be easy," he said aloud.  
  
Celegorm just gave him a blank look. Morgoth sniggered, sure Celegorm had no idea what he'd said. But then, Celegorm didn't have much of an idea about anything.  
  
Morgoth said, "You'll see that I have here-"  
  
A yapping noise interrupted him. His eyes narrowed as he watched Celegorm open the bag he carried and remove a small dog, a poodle by the looks of it. The poodle sniffed at the air, bared its teeth at Morgoth, and then tried to scratch a flea and yap at once. Celegorm put it on his lap.  
  
"What," Morgoth demanded through clenched teeth, "is that?"  
  
"Since Huan abandoned me, I've felt the need of a companion," said Celegorm, with a perfectly straight face.  
  
Morgoth peered at him suspiciously, remembering how Maglor had talked to him at first, and then shook his head. _No. This time I'm sure. Celegorm was an absolute and entire idiot all through the First Age. Being in Mandos can't have changed him that much_.  
  
"What's its name?" he asked.  
  
"Lúthien."  
  
Morgoth blinked, then began to smile. He had forgotten that Celegorm had fallen in love with Lúthien, and that gave him an idea for his Sue. "Beren doesn't mind that you named your dog after his wife?" he asked.  
  
Celegorm sobbed theatrically and clutched at Lúthien. The poodle bit him on the hand, but he didn't let her go. "She is gone, gone from the world! They both are! I shall never see the love of my life again!"  
  
Morgoth rolled his eyes, snorted softly, and put his Sue into play. Yes, this would be an easy victory.  
  
------  
  
"Swan!"  
  
Swan looked at herself in the mirror, then turned away again. It was no use. She was still ugly. The passing days brought no relief. She still had the ugly, brown eyes and smooth features that made all the elves in the village laugh at her. She was still half-human.  
  
-----  
  
Celegorm had gone quiet. Morgoth looked up to see him eying the Sue in puzzlement.  
  
"But she's not ugly," he said. "She's quite pretty, actually. And she doesn't look very different from an Elf."  
  
"Part of the game," Morgoth responded, even more reassured. Celegorm quite obviously had no idea what was going on. Of course, that could be because Lúthien was currently pissing in his lap.  
  
-----  
  
Swan turned away at her mother's yell, and came slowly down the stairs. She was prepared for the heavy slap the Elf gave her, and the way that Amalinde's eyes narrowed as she stepped back and looked her daughter up and down.  
  
"You're still ugly, Swan," she said.  
  
Yes, Swan was used to it, but she couldn't help her eyes filling with tears. The clothes she wore, a man's tunic and trousers, just fit her better than the fragile gowns her mother would have made her wear, and were better-suited to the forests of Mirkwood. But her mother saw only a fat half-human, instead of the slender Elven daughter she'd wanted. She never noticed Swan's toned muscles, or the way that her face was beginning to look, as beautiful as Lúthien's.  
  
-----  
  
The poodle whined at her name. Celegorm set her on the floor and leaned over the gaming table.  
  
"As beautiful as Lúthien?" he asked quietly.  
  
"Of course," said Morgoth. "She must be."  
  
-----  
  
In truth, Amalinde knew full well that her daughter was beautiful, but she was jealous of her and wanted to keep Swan from seeing it as long as possible. Her mother was old, and bitter, and knew that her own time was fading. Elves were supposed to be immortal, but not if they married humans. Amalinde had given up her immortality for love, and then her husband was killed, and she was left with her halfbreed, outcast daughter and a silly prophecy that said that daughter would marry a prince. It would never happen, of course, because Swan wasn't a real lady.  
  
-----  
  
"Make him stop staring at me."  
  
Morgoth looked up. Oromë was staring at Celegorm, and chirping something in bird-language.  
  
"What's he saying?" Morgoth asked.  
  
"Telling me I'm an idiot," said Celegorm, with a sigh. "Which you think he would get tired of, really. Now, are we going to play or not?"  
  
"So far, you're not doing anything to counteract the Sue," said Morgoth with a suspicious frown.   
  
Celegorm smiled at him in a funny way. "Tell me again how beautiful she is."  
  
Morgoth shrugged and complied- eagerly enough, since it did continuing damage to the substance of Arda.  
  
-----  
  
Swan stumbled out the door, weeping. Of course, that couldn't damage her face or her fairness. She had pale skin that didn't tan or scar, and was still as soft in some places as when she was born. Her mother made her work long and hard in the hot sun and scratching among the twigs in the forest, but Swan still never got more beyond a few scratches that always healed instantly.  
  
Her face was high and gentle, and though the planes of her cheeks were smooth like a human's, they still looked as aristocratic as an elf's. Her brown eyes weren't the color of mud, as her mother often told her, but a rich, deep chocolate. Her hair was long and fair, and tumbled almost to her ankles, swept by a streak of glimmering silver. Her voice was sweet enough to make nightingales sing back to her.  
  
Not that Swan knew any of this, of course. She was determined to believe that she was ugly, since her mother had told her so, and she knew that nothing good could come of her life.  
  
"If I really am destined to marry a prince," she muttered as she turned to picking briars, "it's probably a prince of the Orcs!"  
  
------  
  
Morgoth looked up to see what the effect of this was on Celegorm, and blinked. Celegorm was gone. Morgoth looked at Tulkas and Ulmo, who looked on him and stank of sweat and dead fish respectively, but told him nothing.  
  
Morgoth smiled. Celegorm must have seized the opportunity to run away. That meant trouble for the Fëanorian when he was recaptured, and an easy victory for him. He turned happily back to the playing board.  
  
-----  
  
"Hello, my fair lady."  
  
Swan looked up, blushing. The voice was speaking a palpable untruth, but it was kind enough. A handsome Elf stood framed among the trees, gazing at her. His face was bright in a way that she had never seen before.  
  
"Hello," she responded, softly, nervously, one hand rising to touch the streak of silver in her hair. It was the one thing she always wanted to hide, since it was even uglier than the rest of her.  
  
"Why do you cover yourself so?" the Elf asked, stepping closer. "Do you fear that I will harm you?"  
  
-----  
  
Morgoth jumped back from the table.   
  
Tulkas blinked at him. "Is something wrong?"  
  
Morgoth leveled a shaking finger at the game table. "Celegorm- Celegorm is _in_ my story. It was supposed to be Legolas."  
  
-----  
  
"No," muttered Swan, turning her eyes away from him. She was so small. How could he look at her like that? "I fear that you will hate me."  
  
"Why should I?" The Elf took her hand. "You are the fairest maiden I have ever seen. You remind me of- someone I once knew." For a moment, his face darkened, but he shook it off. "You are beautiful."  
  
-----  
  
"Talk to him," Morgoth pleaded with Oromë, who was watching him in bewilderment.  
  
Oromë cleared his throat, then leaned over the gaming board and said, "Celegorm, you are _not_ to seduce the Sue."  
  
If Celegorm heard him, he gave no sign of it, and Morgoth watched in inarticulate rage as the story continued to unfold.  
  
-------  
  
Swan blushed. The Elf was kissing her fingers now. "Who are you?" she asked.  
  
"I am called the Fair One, sometimes," he answered, stepping back into sunlight and shadow.  
  
"I can well believe it," Swan whispered. For all his talk of her beauty, he was the loveliest thing she had ever seen.  
  
"Will you walk and talk with me?" the Fair One asked. "I am bored of those Elves who can only talk of the past. I would speak with someone whose inner beauty matches her outer."  
  
Swan, among many blushes, agreed to walk with him indeed.  
  
-----  
  
Morgoth was shaking. Not even the other Fëanorians had annoyed him this much. He waited for the best time to reach in and grab Celegorm, certain he could fetch the Elf out before he killed Swan. So far, Celegorm still didn't seem inclined to do much about the Sue.  
  
-----  
  
"It's a lovely sunset, is it not?"  
  
"Hmmm." Swan closed her eyes. She was leaning against the Fair One's shoulder, almost unable to believe she had found him, the prince she was destined for. All day they had spoken of her beauty, and sometimes of hunting, and the loveliness of the forest. There was sadness in the Fair One's eyes, but it eased when he looked at her. Swan knew she had found the man of her dreams, and her destiny.   
  
"Swan?"  
  
Swan opened her eyes. The Fair One was reaching into his belt.  
  
"I have a gift for you," he said.  
  
Swan blushed at the delightfully naughty thoughts that were ripping through her head, but didn't get far before the Fair One whipped out two knives, slicing through her throat and his own at almost the same moment.  
  
-----  
  
Morgoth wailed and grabbed for Celegorm, but the Elves' spirits were already dissolving. Celegorm hovered for a moment above the gaming table, holding the struggling Swan in his arms, and grinning the mad grin that Morgoth had seen before only on Fëanor's face.  
  
"Thank you for this companion of my loneliness," said Celegorm. "You may keep Lúthien." And he turned and flew back to Mandos, dragging Swan with him all the way.  
  
"What?" Morgoth asked, but felt the poodle bite his ankles, and understood. He kicked the dog, who growled and hung on to his foot, chewing. Morgoth reached down to pry her off, intending to throw her into the nearest wall.  
  
"How dare you hurt her!" Oromë screamed, and grabbed the poodle away, cuddling her close. She bit him.  
  
Morgoth sank back into his seat, and turned to look at Tulkas. "That's _my_ Sue. There must be some way to get her back."  
  
"Sorry," said Tulkas, grinning now. "I don't think there is."  
  
"But I created her, and he stole her from me!" Morgoth wailed.  
  
"He went back to Mandos where he belonged," said Varda, stepping unexpectedly from around a star. Three cloaked figures followed her. "I think Námo and several others will be too happy about that to take her from him. They barely agreed to let me bring out these people as it was."  
  
"Who are they?" Morgoth asked, staring hard at the figures. They wore such heavy clothes, though, that he couldn't see anything of their heads or hands or other identifying features. One did wear a sword.  
  
"Strange as it may seem, Morgoth, I don't like seeing you lose all the time," said Varda, leaning against the table. "It makes it boring, and makes me feel sorry for you- neither an emotion I can afford. So I brought forth these three. One is Turgon, one is Finrod Felagund, and one is Finarfin. I won't tell you who's who, but all of them should provide easier opponents than what you've faced so far."  
  
Morgoth brightened. "They should indeed," he muttered, and studied them intently.  
  
No good. He still couldn't tell. But any of them would be easy to beat, he thought contentedly. Turgon's expertise was hide-and-seek, not Sue games. Finrod was too nice to pull underhanded tricks, and Finarfin too noble.  
  
After a while, Morgoth nodded to the figure with the sword by his side. It was probably Turgon, since he had always gone armed in the last days of the war. "I choose him."  
  
"Very well," said Varda, and led the others away. The cloaked figure sat down on the other side of the table.  
  
"Remove your hood?" Morgoth asked.  
  
The figure shook his head.  
  
"Very well," said Morgoth, and chose the next Sue, heart lighter than it had been in some time- at least until he put his foot in one of Lúthien's puddles.  
  
  
  
Something a little different this time.


	17. Gweniwen Gazed At

Okay, I am beginning to wonder just how many violent ways I can kill Sues off, here.  
  
Translation: This one is more gory than the others.  
  
  
  
The Game of the Gods, 17  
  
Morgoth carefully and lovingly set the Sue in the center of the board. He knew that Turgon would try all kinds of clever strategies and subtle manipulations to win this round. After all, he'd kept Gondolin hidden that way for centuries.  
  
But this was a Sue that just had to be dealt with blatantly, and Morgoth was sure that Turgon couldn't do it.  
  
He looked up at the cloaked figure across the table. "Your move."  
  
The figure leaned forward and studied the Sue. Then a hollow voice said, "Send her into battle."  
  
Morgoth frowned. He knew that voice, didn't he? But he couldn't figure it out, so he shrugged and said, "She already is."  
  
"That's not battle," said the voice darkly.  
  
"No?'  
  
"No. Staring down dragons is battle."  
  
Morgoth smirked. "Oh, she'll have the chance to stare down a dragon."  
  
------  
  
Gweniwen shoved her hair out of her eyes and stabbed forward, killing yet another Mordor soldier. Then she looked around desperately.  
  
The Battle of the Pelennor Fields was exploding all around her, and Gweniwen had long since been separated from her uncle, Théoden. She was afraid that he was dead, since she wasn't there to protect him anymore. She had been trained from birth by Elvish ninjas to be his protector-  
  
------  
  
"Elvish ninjas," said the figure across the table, flatly.  
  
Morgoth frowned. He was _certain_ he knew that voice. "Yes. Does the thought of that bother you?"  
  
"Yes," said the voice. "Because there are no Elvish ninjas."  
  
"I can make them up."  
  
"Really," said the voice.  
  
"Yes."  
  
The figure was silent, but seemed to be thinking about something.  
  
Morgoth shrugged and went back to playing.  
  
------  
  
-and no one knew about her, the second niece of Théoden. But now she was supposed to protect her charge from the greatest battle of his life, and she was lost.  
  
"Stone-maid!"  
  
Gweniwen turned swiftly, then relaxed. Éomer headed swiftly towards her, picking his way among the bodies. He was one of the few who knew of her existence, and the only one who called her Stone-maid, since 'Maiden of Stone' was the literal translation of her name.  
  
-----  
  
"No, it isn't." The figure sounded snobbish. "Gweni doesn't mean 'stone' in Elvish."  
  
"But there could have been a secret group of Elves who had a different dialect," said Morgoth in delight. Turgon really didn't have any idea how to handle this. "Not all the languages of Middle-earth were mapped."  
  
"Morgoth," said the figure, "I _was_ part of a secret group of Elves who spoke a different dialect, and instructed by the wisest of them all. She would have told me if 'gweni' meant stone."  
  
Morgoth smiled in delight. Definitely Turgon. He'd probably heard something like that from Indis or Galadriel, or maybe even Varda herself. "This is just one you don't know about," he said.  
  
"You like adding things to Middle-earth, don't you?" the figure asked.  
  
"Oh, yes," Morgoth purred, and let loose another invention.  
  
----  
  
"Have you seen Uncle?" Éomer asked Gweniwen.  
  
Gweniwen shook back her hair and glared at him. "Do you think I would have, in this?" she asked, with a gesture to the battle.  
  
Éomer lowered his head. "Sorry," he muttered.  
  
Gweniwen nodded sharply. He was the only one besides her and Éowyn who knew that Théoden had made a will proclaiming Gweniwen his heir. Éomer was talking to the future Queen of Rohan, and he knew it.  
  
-----  
  
"But if no one knew she existed..."  
  
Morgoth laughed. "A minor problem."  
  
The figure hunched closer to the board, and didn't answer.  
  
-----  
  
"Look for him," Gweniwen commanded Éomer. "I will try to find the Lord of the Nazgûl, whom I am destined to slay."  
  
Éomer bowed to her and started fighting his way through the press. Gweniwen began to fight her way in a different direction, all the while watching the sky for the winged beasts the Nazgûl rode.  
  
-----  
  
"I see what you mean about her facing down a dragon," said the figure.  
  
Morgoth nodded. "And, of course, you'll have to find some way to kill my warrior-Sue while she does it."  
  
The figure chuckled unpleasantly. "I already have a way."  
  
-----  
  
A commotion in the ranks drew Gweniwen's attention. She turned and drew her sword, wondering what was moving towards her. Perhaps the Lord of the Nazgûl had landed and was coming to seek his ancient foe, the one he had been destined to meet from the beginning.  
  
She stared as something bright and gleaming broke through the soldiers, who trampled each other trying to get out of the way. Soldiers of Mordor fled beside soldiers of Gondor, and no one cared. There was a greater threat behind them.  
  
Facing Gweniwen was an enormous golden dragon, shining and sleek, though without wings.  
  
-----  
  
Morgoth blinked. "What in the world is Glaurung doing there?"  
  
"I took a tip from you," said the figure. "I was an apt student when I wanted to be, you know. And I learned the art of killing people pretty well."  
  
-----  
  
Gweniwen stared a moment longer, then shrugged. She had always known she would face a dragon one day. She struck a dramatic pose. "En guard, beast!"  
  
The dragon yawned, then moved a bit closer, tilting his head to look into Gweniwen's eyes.  
  
-----  
  
"_Now_ what are you doing?" Morgoth complained. "If you really must cheat this much, have him roast her and be done with it."  
  
"Oh, but don't you like seeing what is happening?" the figure taunted him. "Since you like to look out over the world and _see_ everything?"  
  
Morgoth stared at him.  
  
------  
  
Gweniwen stared into his eyes, and felt her sword-arm drop. She was caught motionless in the spell of that gaze, and felt her will yield while a purring voice spoke in her mind.  
  
She stumbled across the battlefield, away from the dragon, until she located Éomer. He gazed at her anxiously. "Gweniwen? Did you find-"  
  
Gweniwen lunged towards him and wrapped her arms around his waist, kissing him deeply.  
  
-----  
  
Morgoth said, "What in my Arda are you doing?"  
  
"Vengeance," said the figure.  
  
Morgoth pushed his chair a little back from the table.  
  
-----  
  
Éomer, shouting in disgust, pushed Gweniwen away from him. She stumbled, then started making her way back towards him.  
  
"What are you doing?" he asked, but she didn't heed him.  
  
She heeded the blade chopping through her arm, though. It pinwheeled through the air, splattering blood across her face. Gweniwen sank to her knees, screaming.  
  
-----  
  
"Who are you?" Morgoth demanded.  
  
-----  
  
Then Éomer chopped through her chest, tearing through her vitals with a sweet sound.  
  
-----  
  
"You're not Turgon," said Morgoth, pushing his chair back.  
  
-----  
  
Gweniwen fell forward on her face and died messily, and no one missed her.  
  
-----  
  
"Turgon?" Morgoth squeaked.  
  
"Not quite," said the figure, reaching up to remove his hood. "But close."  
  
Morgoth stared at Túrin for a moment, then pushed his chair back from the table just as Gurthang went through the spot where he'd been sitting. Túrin grunted in annoyance.  
  
"Hold still," he snapped, jumping over the table.  
  
Morgoth ducked under the table, only to have someone shove him out violently. He made out Sauron cowering there, and then he rolled into Túrin's legs. Túrin grinned at him.  
  
"I think I'll take a hint from Fingolfin," he said, as he cut at Morgoth's shoulder, "and give you _multiple_ wounds."  
  
Morgoth closed his eyes in dread, but the blade never struck. Instead, a whiny voice said, "And why should I want to taste that black blood?"  
  
"Because I told you to," Túrin snapped. "And there's the whole 'loyalty to the hand that wields thee' thing. So be bloody loyal to the hand that wields thee, and stab him."  
  
Morgoth cautiously opened his eyes. The voice was coming from the sword, which vibrated as if trying to get out of Túrin's hand.  
  
"Doesn't this ever strike you as useless?" asked Gurthang.  
  
"What?" Túrin tried to force the sword towards Morgoth. It stuck in the air.  
  
"All this dramatic posturing and 'thee' and 'thou' and 'oh, I'm going to kill Morgoth, the bloody bastard made me fall in love with my sister' thing," said Gurthang. "So he made you fall in love with your sister. It's not like other people haven't done that."  
  
Túrin screamed at the sword and tried again to force it lower, but Gurthang was still stuck.  
  
"I mean, what's it all about, when you get right down to it?" Gurthang went on. "Just a lot of posturing. You two could have made peace at any time, but you absolutely had to kill his soldiers, and he had to keep Húrin prisoner and torture his descendants." The sword turned, Morgoth supposed, to look at him, though he really couldn't tell since it didn't have eyes. "I think that was suppressed homoerotic impulses more than anything else, to tell you the truth. You seem to have a fetish for kidnapping people and strapping them to mountains. Maedhros, Húrin, where does it end?"  
  
Túrin screamed and threw the sword away. Morgoth sobbed with relief when he saw that someone else had caught it. Apparently, Tulkas and Ulmo had finally decided to intervene. Ulmo picked up Túrin, and Tulkas easily held the struggling Gurthang.  
  
"That's enough, you," said Ulmo.  
  
Tulkas nodded. "Yeah. Back to Mandos with you, Túrin."  
  
"I don't go to Mandos," said Túrin. "The Men have their own place."  
  
"Which Fëanor somehow got you out of," said Ulmo. "How did he do that?"  
  
Túrin shut his mouth and looked sullen.  
  
"A way that you're not going to know about," said Fëanor's voice, and Túrin abruptly vanished from Ulmo's hold.  
  
Morgoth got to see Ulmo spin around in a circle looking for Túrin. He supposed it might have been funny if he wasn't near pissing himself with fright.  
  
Tulkas grunted and held up Gurthang. "At least I still have this-"  
  
"Did I forget that?" Fëanor asked. "Oh, dear."  
  
"I'm happy to be forgotten," said Gurthang. "I always am, unless someone wants to spill blood on me-"  
  
Then it vanished as well. Morgoth and the two Valar stood in silence for a moment.   
  
Then Tulkas said, "Well, I know that Varda's not back yet. But you can play me if you want."  
  
Morgoth nodded fervently. After playing Túrin, he would have been willing to play Maedhros. Nothing could possibly be worse.  
  
Then an eagle swooped across the table, dropping off a letter addressed to Morgoth. Morgoth opened it gingerly.  
  
It was from Varda, and it was terse and to the point.  
  
_Mandos has rounded up almost all the prisoners now. But he can't find the hiding place of the ones who've escaped, and now Fingolfin is missing as well_.  
  
Morgoth groaned and closed his eyes.  
  
"Bad news?" Tulkas asked. "Will the game take your mind off it?"  
  
Morgoth nodded hurriedly, and went scrambling in the box for the most delicate Sue. At least he knew Tulkas was honestly stupid.  
  
  
  
I'm wondering now if Morgoth's enemies will ever actually get a chance to hurt him.


	18. Lily Limited

A/N: Thanks for the reviews, everyone!

Deiseach: I don't come up with all the Sue concepts. I've simply hung around Sue-mocking communities long enough (especially the ones on LJ) to have seen some of the same variations repeat over and over.

Like this one.  
  
The Game of the Gods, 18  
  
Tulkas eyed Morgoth.  
  
"Your move, Astaldo," Morgoth prompted him at last.  
  
"I don't see any opponent worth moving against," Tulkas complained, stretching his arms above his head- to admire his own biceps, Morgoth was certain. "You were chained in Mandos for three Ages. And this Sue- well, she's too delicate and wimpy to require my hand against her."  
  
Morgoth sat back with a grin. This was going to work exactly as he had thought it would, then. He would move the Sue, and Tulkas would admire his muscles, and he would win because the big git was too stupid to do anything about it.  
  
"Here we go," he whispered, and pushed the Sue across the board.  
  
-----  
  
"You are my daughter and you will _do as I say_!"  
  
Lily cringed as her father slammed the door. She had tried to stand up to him, tried to tell him that she had no intention of a forced marriage to Prince Legolas, but her father saw only his position at court. He had no eyes for the beauty of his daughter, or for the fact that she was true to her name- a lily, a delicate and fragile flower in the heart of the wood.  
  
-----  
  
Morgoth eyed Tulkas. He was currently smiling foolishly into the air, probably thinking thoughts that featured Nessa quite prominently.  
  
Reassured, Morgoth went back to his game.  
  
-----  
  
Lily loved her father, ogre though he could be, and so she would obey him and marry this Prince. But tears would pour down her cheeks while she did it, and she knew that she would never be as happy as she would be if she had married freely and for love.  
  
"Oh, ada," she whispered, beginning to pack the trunk her father had told her she would have to bring, "you will never know the sacrifices of will and heart I make for you."  
  
*******  
  
"We're almost there, my lady."  
  
Lily closed her eyes to keep from looking at the servant who spoke, and nodded. She could see the hopeless devotion in his eyes. Just like herself, he would not oppose Lord Foxbright. The man had tortured Lily's mother to death because she had tried to flee when Lily was just a baby. Lily was just going to have to live with being forcibly married to the Prince, and the servant would just have to live with being in love with her.  
  
------  
  
"What's his name?"  
  
Morgoth looked up. "Whose?"  
  
"This Elf, this Lord Foxbright," said Tulkas, tapping on the table. "I want to go find him in Mandos and challenge him to a wrestling contest."  
  
Morgoth sighed. "He wouldn't be in Mandos."  
  
"Where, then?"  
  
Morgoth rolled his eyes. "It's a game, Astaldo. I just made up the Sue and her family and dropped her into Middle-earth."  
  
"And I-" Tulkas frowned at him. "I have to use reality to destroy her?"  
  
"Yes," said Morgoth sharply. "May I say that you aren't making a very good job of it so far?"  
  
Tulkas stared upward. "Don't you think that Eärendil is bright tonight?"  
  
Morgoth snorted in despair and returned to his game, but secretly he was exultant, thinking that this time he might actually win.  
  
-----  
  
They still hadn't reached the palace that night, and Lily was tired and hungry- but determined. She would find some way out of this. She would disguise herself as a servant, at least, and sneak into the palace, she told herself. That way she could see Prince Legolas before she married him, and decide if he was worthy of her affections.  
  
She chopped off as much of her golden hair as she could bear to part with, and put on a servant's cap that partially overshadowed her sky-blue eyes. Then she crept in the direction of Mirkwood Palace.  
  
-----  
  
Morgoth heard a sound, and looked up. Tulkas was leaning forward, staring over his shoulder into the darkness.  
  
"Did you see that?" he asked.  
  
"See what?" Morgoth turned and looked over his shoulder- somewhat nervously, if truth be told, but he didn't see anything.  
  
"Something moved."  
  
Morgoth shrugged.  
  
-----  
  
Dawn saw Lily still wandering about the forest. She couldn't find the palace, and she was sick and dying of a broken heart. She stopped to rest beside a small stream, and sing to the woodland creatures of her sorrow.  
  
Before she could start, however, the ground beneath her gave way. Lily found herself tumbling into a dank cave, and she was so surprised that she fainted when she saw two Elves standing before her.  
  
-----  
  
Morgoth snapped his head up and stared at Tulkas suspiciously. The oaf was still peering into the darkness, though, and didn't seem to be staring at him.  
  
Morgoth looked back down at his Sue. He was sure he hadn't planned for her to fall into the cave, but she was not hurt, and he didn't see any particular way this piece of reality would kill her. He shrugged and continued on.  
  
------  
  
"Wake up."  
  
Lily opened her eyes, and found herself staring into a pair of sky-blue ones, so exactly like her own that she drew in her breath. These were the eyes of her soulmate, she was certain, and she immediately warmed to him and reached out a languid hand so that he could help her up.  
  
He seized her hand and pulled her sharply to her feet, then said, "How did you find the entrance? Who are you?"  
  
Lily cowered before him. "I don't understand- Prince Legolas?" she asked weakly, since she was sure he must be a Prince from his beauty, and yet he wasn't acting like one.  
  
"Why are you calling me that?" Legolas countered.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Prince."  
  
"But you _are_ Legolas?" Lily asked. She looked around, and shivered. They stood in a dank cave, lit by flickering torches, and by the sound of it there was rushing water not too far away. _Why would Prince Legolas be in such an unpleasant place?_ she wondered.  
  
"Yes, of course I am," said the Prince, without relaxing a bit. "And now I want to know how you found the entrance to my father's domain."  
  
"Your father- King Thranduil!" Lily's hands flew anxiously to her servant's cap. "I'm sorry, Your Highness, but my things are all with the servants."  
  
Legolas stepped back further. "What servants?" he asked. "And why do you address me by that ridiculous title?"  
  
Lily looked down at the floor nervously. There was no help for it now. "I am your destined bride, my lord, and your soulmate," she squeaked. "Lily Foxbright. I didn't want to marry you, so I tried to sneak into the palace disguised as a servant." She looked up at him through lowered lashes. "I was wrong, and I know that now I see you. I fell into this cave instead. Can you help me?"  
  
Legolas was silent for a long moment. Then he said, "Wait here," and ran away.  
  
Lily opened her mouth to protest this ungallant treatment, then closed it, her face burning with humiliation. _How could you think that he would ever want someone like you? He probably likes delicate, lady-like creatures who would never even dream of putting on servants' clothes!_  
  
------  
  
Morgoth shook his head slightly. Yes, the story was proceeding according to plan. Of course it was. But something seemed just slightly off. Legolas should have swooned at Lily's feet.  
  
Well, that would just make it better when he did, of course.  
  
Tulkas leaned forward again, and Morgoth glared at him. "Will you stop-"  
  
This time, he heard the sound too. Morgoth jumped and looked over his shoulder. The sound was a scrape, he thought, like iron dragging on stone, as though someone out there were pulling chains along.  
  
Morgoth tried to shrug off his uneasiness. Probably a Balrog. Sometimes they got confused about what exactly they were supposed to be, and tried to act like ghosts instead of demons. They weren't, Morgoth had to concede, the brightest of the Maiar, which might have been when Aulë so far had made no move to get them back.  
  
------  
  
"There she is, Father."  
  
Lily, who had sat down to rest on the stone, scrambled up at once, and blinked. Legolas walked towards her beside an Elf who could have been his brother, save for the greater wisdom in his eyes. Lily had pictured a much older man, withered with evil, like her father.  
  
"King Thranduil," she said with a bow.  
  
"Yes." Thranduil glanced at his son, then at her. "Please, tell me who you are."  
  
"The Lady Lily Foxbright, come to marry your son." Lily lowered her eyes. "I had no wish to do so, but Father forced me."  
  
"And you traveled with-?"  
  
"Servants."  
  
"And you sought-"  
  
"The palace. But I fell into the caves instead."  
  
Thranduil exchanged another glance with his son, then coughed. "No one will marry my son until he is ready to take a wife," he said. "I have never planned on arranging a marriage for him, nor will I."  
  
Lily blinked at him.  
  
"And Elves do not have servants," Legolas added, his voice indignant. "I do not know where you live, but surely they must have something of the corruption of Sauron within them. Do you dwell near Dol Guldur, perhaps?"  
  
Lily gaped.  
  
"And this _is_ the 'palace,'" Thranduil concluded, sweeping a hand around the cave. "What else would it be, when we must live underground to guard against the attacks of our enemies?"  
  
Lily thought about living underground for the rest of her life, without servants, and without the assurance of gaining Legolas's affection because he was her destined soulmate.  
  
She promptly fell into an apoplectic fit, and died a few moments later.  
  
-----  
  
Morgoth stared aghast at his dead Sue, then looked up at Tulkas. Tulkas glanced at him, then rolled his eyes.  
  
"Oh, come off it, Morgoth," he said. "Why did you want me to play more openly? I would only have embarrassed you. I only had to wait until your Sue ran into natural reality. When you violate that reality in so many ways, you should envision it coming back to bite you."   
  
Morgoth leveled a shaking finger, but no words would come out of his mouth.  
  
Tulkas eyed him shrewdly. "You know something, Morgoth?" he asked conversationally. "I think your problem is that you have no wife. If you had some- well, some exercise occasionally, things might not be so bad."  
  
Morgoth opened and closed his mouth. At this point, though, really no sound would come out, and so someone answered for him.  
  
"He would still go limp in one way."  
  
Morgoth turned swiftly. He heard that voice in his _dreams_, sometimes, taunting him.  
  
Out of the darkness came Fingolfin, smiling calmly, and holding Ringil in one hand. As Morgoth watched, he rasped it down the whetstone he held in the other hand, producing the loud scrape Morgoth had heard before.  
  
"I do believe we have unfinished business," said the High King of the Noldor calmly. "I cut one foot, as I remember, but not the other-"  
  
Morgoth tried to hide his foot under the table.  
  
"-and gave you seven wounds, but did not kill you." Fingolfin smiled even more widely. "While you killed me. That is not quite even."  
  
"What are you doing here, Fingolfin?" Tulkas asked, sounding no more than mildly interested. "Does it have something to do with Fëanor?"  
  
Fingolfin flashed Tulkas an angry look. "I take no orders from my half-brother."  
  
Tulkas snorted. "Of course. You just happened to escape Mandos at the exact same time."  
  
Fingolfin tossed his hair and glared at Morgoth. "Oh, all right," he muttered. "Yes, he said he'd let me out of Mandos if I delayed attacking Morgoth until just the right time."  
  
"And what was 'just the right time?'" asked Tulkas.  
  
"_I_ don't know," said Fingolfin. "Something to do with Eärendil. I didn't pay that much attention to the family jewels, as you know." His eyes went back to Morgoth. "I had other things on my mind."  
  
Tulkas looked up at Eärendil. "I wonder-"  
  
Abruptly, a loud alarm began to blare. Tulkas sprang to his feet, his face ashen.   
  
"He's attacking Eärendil," he breathed. "He wants the Silmaril back. Oh, Eru!" And off he rushed, with Ulmo right behind him.  
  
That left Morgoth alone with Fingolfin.  
  
"Um," he said, as he backed away, limping. "Somebody? Anybody? Help? Sauron?" he added, seeing a flicker of movement under the table.  
  
The flicker of movement retreated.  
  
"Oh," said Fingolfin, "I don't think he will help you. He is nothing but a poor imitation of you. A Ring to your jewels, a defeat by my nephew to a defeat by me."  
  
"You did not defeat me," said Morgoth haughtily, and immediately regretted it.  
  
"Not _yet_," Fingolfin corrected, and leaped forward to battle.  
  
  
  
Heh heh heh. Not sorry enough for Morgoth to let him win yet.


	19. Immanuela's Idiocy

A/N: Wow. Thank you for the reviews, everyone! I'm extremely stunned and flattered that so many people like this story.

I shall take particular pleasure in ripping this Sue cliché apart, since it isn't even as if it makes any sense. Tolkien was Catholic, and _still_ didn't decide to put Christianity in Middle-earth. 

Oh, and I don't own the Left Behind books, and I do not want to.  
  
The Game of the Gods, 19  
  
Morgoth didn't know how it happened. One minute he was hopping away from Fingolfin, and the next moment he was flat on his back, with something curled so firmly around his chest he might as well have been bound.  
  
_Angainor!_ was his first thought, and he immediately began to struggle and scream.  
  
"Be quiet, you," snapped a voice in his ear. "I'm displeased with both of you, but at least Fingolfin isn't on the verge of wetting himself."  
  
A green form rose out of the earth, shedding dirt as it went. Morgoth blinked and looked down at the bond across his chest. It was a tree root.   
  
"Now," said Yavanna, sitting down in Varda's chair at the game board, "I suppose that one of you has an excuse for fighting when all of Valinor is in danger?"  
  
"Of course all of Valinor is in danger," said Fingolfin, from beneath the root holding him. "Varda took Fëanor out of Mandos."  
  
"And?" Yavanna asked.  
  
"Varda took _Fëanor_ out of _Mandos_," Fingolfin repeated. "That started all the trouble."  
  
"And you continued it, fighting with Morgoth like this," Yavanna observed. "Noblest High King of the Noldor, indeed."  
  
"I did not-"  
  
Yavanna leaned sadly over towards Fingolfin. "You're still jealous of Fëanor, aren't you?" she asked.  
  
"I was never jealous!" spat Fingolfin.  
  
For once, Morgoth knew a good thing when he saw it, and kept quiet.  
  
"Of course you weren't," Yavanna agreed. "That wasn't you whining about his being your father's favorite. It must have been a different Fingolfin."  
  
Morgoth couldn't help chuckling at the way Fingolfin's face flushed.  
  
"And that must have been a different Morgoth, too," said Yavanna without looking at him, "who let a mortal wound him."  
  
Morgoth shut his mouth and scowled at her back.  
  
"I don't have time for this," said Yavanna. "They're bringing out Nerdanel in the hopes of distracting Fëanor, and I should be there. So you will both sit down at your places and play like good boys."  
  
The tree roots picked them up and deposited them in their chairs. Morgoth tested his bonds cautiously, and found that he could bend over and pick up the Sue box, but couldn't stir an inch beyond that. Fingolfin pulled furiously at his bonds, and wound up settling back with a pout.  
  
"Play nice," said Yavanna firmly, then dived into the earth and was gone.  
  
Morgoth selected another Sue, while inquiring, "Whining about Fëanor being your father's favorite?"  
  
"_You_ try living with him and Finwë!" Fingolfin burst out. "It was always, 'Oh, yes, Fëanor made a beautiful jewel today,' and 'Fëanor invented a new letter today,' and 'Oh, Fingolfin, look, Fëanor made a working model of the universe today!' I was smart, too."  
  
"Of course," Morgoth murmured, remembering that this was the Elf who had charged him across the battlefield with only a sword. "Quite."  
  
He put the Sue on the board. Fingolfin looked at her, and blinked.  
  
"What is that?"  
  
"Not telling you," said Morgoth. This was the one chance he might have to win, and he was going right ahead and taking it. It would be all the easier if Fingolfin didn't know the rules of the game.  
  
-----  
  
Immanuela checked herself in the mirror one last time. Yes, she had her cross necklace, and the bag that was slung over her shoulder contained the Bible and all the Left Behind books. She was ready.  
  
She turned and closed her eyes, clasping her hands in front of her.  
  
"Oh, dear God, take me to Middle-earth. It is a beautiful land, but every one of them will go to Hell when they die, if I do not tell them about Jesus."  
  
There came a bright flash of light, and then Immanuela felt herself crossing from world to world. She smiled contentedly, sure that she was carried in the arms of Jesus.  
  
-----  
  
Fingolfin peered closely at the Sue.  
  
"What?" Morgoth asked.  
  
"Light's carrying her," said Fingolfin. "Why does she think it's arms?"  
  
"The intricacies of her religion."  
  
Fingolfin shook his head. "There's still a difference. When the Valar go unbodied, we bloody well know it."  
  
"It doesn't really matter," said Morgoth fiercely, inwardly pleased. Fingolfin hadn't made one protest about the unlikeliness of the Christian girl crossing from one world to the other, which Morgoth had been most worried about.  
  
-----  
  
"...though I do not know the way."  
  
"I will guide you, Frodo!"  
  
Everyone turned to stare as Immanuela stepped into the center of the Council of Elrond. She smiled brilliantly at everyone and held up the cross, launching into the speech she had long planned.  
  
"I will guide you, and so will my Lord go with me, because He always does. When you walk with Jesus, then you are never alone again. He will guide you in the dark places like a shepherd, and be with you in the last extremity. If you succeed in throwing the Ring into Mount Doom, Frodo, it will be because of Him."  
  
"Where is he, then?" Gimli asked, peering over her shoulder.  
  
Immanuela glared. She knew there was a reason she didn't like the dwarf. "Not here physically," she said.  
  
"But you said he was always with you," Gimli argued.   
  
Immanuela tossed her head and turned to Elrond. "I am a servant of the Secret Fire," she said, the way she'd heard Gandalf say it. "I serve the one who created this place, and all places. Let me go on the Quest!"  
  
Elrond seemed to be struggling for a moment. Immanuela closed her eyes and prayed, to help him fight the evil within him.  
  
"Of course you may go," Elrond said a moment later.  
  
A bit mechanical, Immanuela conceded, but when the Devil had hold of him, she couldn't hope for better. She turned to everyone and smiled again. "The Lord will go with us!" she declared happily.  
  
-----  
  
Morgoth looked up. Fingolfin was now peering under the table, as far as he could move with the root gripping him.  
  
"What?" Morgoth asked.  
  
"She said this Jesus was with her," said Fingolfin. "I suppose he must be her companion. But I can't see him."  
  
Morgoth sighed loudly. "He walks with her unseen," he said. "He's the son of the Father."  
  
Fingolfin narrowed his eyes. "Eru doesn't have a son."  
  
"Not in Middle-earth," Morgoth conceded. "In her world, he does."  
  
"Then why is she bringing it to Middle-earth?"  
  
"Can we play this game?"  
  
-----  
  
"And everyone will be destroyed unless they accept Jesus into their hearts, see?"  
  
"That's- nice, Immanuela," said Legolas, edging away from her. "I think I should go help Boromir scout."  
  
Immanuela shut the first Left Behind book with a little pout. Lately, everyone needed to go scout. Sometimes all nine of them went forward and scouted at once.  
  
Other times, as now, Gandalf was the only one left behind, and he was smoking and watching her calmly. Immanuela turned to him with high hopes. She had to have high hopes, since he practiced black magic and she had to save him from that.  
  
"You serve Satan, don't you?" she asked.  
  
"Who?" Gandalf countered.  
  
Oh, he was a crafty one! But Immanuela was onto him. "Lucifer," she said. "Or Beezelbub. He might have different names. But he promises you your power, and then takes your soul."  
  
Gandalf blew a smoke ring. Immanuela frowned. She had the unfortunate idea that he wasn't listening to her.  
  
"I know," she said. "You have magic because you serve other masters."  
  
"That's right," Gandalf said slowly. "I do."  
  
"You aren't on the side of the angels," said Immanuela.   
  
"Who are they?" Gandalf asked kindly.  
  
Now he just wanted to make a mockery of her. Immanuela tossed her hair angrily. "Gabriel, Michael, Raphael... you must have heard of them!"  
  
"No."  
  
"They will be very angry when they find out what you've done," Immanuela threatened.  
  
"So will someone named Curumo," said Gandalf, blowing one final smoke ring. "And yet, that is hardly enough to stop me."  
  
"Is Curumo an angel, too?" Immanuela asked eagerly.  
  
Gandalf snorted. "He has so many names now that he may call himself that next."  
  
-----  
  
"Curumo was a-"  
  
"Maia, I know," said Morgoth. "But she doesn't know that."  
  
Fingolfin shook his head. "What are you planning to have her do?"  
  
"You'll see."  
  
-----  
  
"Back, foul demon!"  
  
Immanuela stepped forward, her cross raised. This was the moment she had really come for, the moment she was sure would convert everyone in the Fellowship. She faced the Balrog, and she would exorcise it and drive the demon from the world.  
  
The Balrog stalked forward, a creature of darkness and fire. Immanuela lifted her cross high, and began to pray.  
  
"In Jesus's name, I bid you begone!"  
  
The Balrog went on stalking towards her. Immanuela fell a step backward.  
  
"In God's name, I banish you!"  
  
That didn't seem to work, either. The Balrog was on the bridge now, and Immanuela was aware that the Fellowship, all except Gandalf, was a long way behind her.  
  
Gandalf would face the Balrog, she knew, and fall. But she couldn't let him do that. His soul would be damned to Hell if he died.  
  
"In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost-"  
  
The Balrog's whip cracked out, twining around her ankles. Immanuela screamed as she fell, and even more when the whip cracked again and she went pinwheeling into the abyss.  
  
------  
  
Fingolfin blinked and looked up at Morgoth. "You call that a victory?"  
  
"I _didn't_ plan for that to happen!" Morgoth screamed. He glared at the board. Fingolfin didn't know how to play the game. Someone else must have interfered. But who?  
  
"Message, Morgoth."  
  
Morgoth glared at Thorondor, who hovered beside him looking utterly bored. Carefully keeping his face out of range of the eagle's talons, he accepted the message, recognizing it at once by the burn holes.  
  
He didn't expect the contents, though.  
  
_Dear goth,  
  
Should ve known, you astard. You de ed me wage bene and no raise for mil years. Of course I would venge on you, and your p cious Sue.   
  
Sin ly,  
  
Bal g of Mor a._  
  
Morgoth flung the charred paper on the table and closed his eyes.  
  
"There you are."  
  
Morgoth opened his eyes as the root around his chest loosened, and Yavanna came walking towards the game table, followed by Varda. Varda nodded cheerfully to Fingolfin. "Time to go back to Mandos, now. You've had enough freedom."  
  
"What about the others?" Fingolfin asked, reluctantly climbing to his feet.  
  
"Well, Maglor ran into Nienna, and she managed to convince him that he needs counseling to overcome the effects of his exile," said Varda with a sigh, taking her seat. "And Túrin and Gurthang were so deep in the middle of a fight about whose fault Túrin's sorry life was that he never heard us coming. They're both in their proper places now."  
  
"And Maedhros and Fëanor?" Morgoth asked.  
  
Varda hesitated. "Ah," she said. "Yes."  
  
"What does that mean?" Morgoth demanded.  
  
"Maedhros is- somewhere else, completely," said Varda. "We have no idea where. We thought to take him with his father, but they'd evidently already split up."  
  
"And Fëanor?"  
  
"The last we saw of him, he was accusing Nerdanel of being passive-aggressive, and she was accusing him of not respecting her emotional needs," said Varda.  
  
"Yes, but where _is_ he, now?" Morgoth demanded.  
  
"Away from the Silmaril, so we really don't care," Varda said firmly.  
  
"Varda..."  
  
"All right, all right!" Varda spat. "So it looks like Fëanor's escape was arranged! But it wasn't my fault."  
  
Morgoth sagged back in his chair. "Arranged?" he whimpered.  
  
"Come, Fingolfin," said Yavanna peremptorily, and began tugging him away. "You don't need to hear this."  
  
"But I want to!" Fingolfin whined, trying to set his feet. "Fëanor gets _everything_- the praise and adoration of everybody, and a wife who can smith, and arranged escapes from Mandos..."  
  
His voice trailed off as Yavanna dragged him away. Varda drew a deep breath and leaned towards Morgoth.  
  
"Aulë really did lead him to a bloody forge," she said. "Manwë thought he should have some fresh air. And Mandos and Vairë just wanted him out of their Halls. The exact quote, I believe, was that Mandos 'wouldn't be responsible for anything happening to Fëanor if he gave Vairë just one more piece of advice on her weaving.'"  
  
"And you think they're hiding Fëanor?"   
  
Varda nodded.  
  
Morgoth thought a moment. "Could we make a deal? I help you look for Fëanor and get him back in Mandos? We both want him back there, I presume."  
  
"Yes," said Varda.  
  
"And could you-"  
  
"No, Morgoth, I am not letting you win a round of the game."  
  
Morgoth glared at her, and, just for that, grabbed a special Sue he'd been saving.  
  
  
  
Heh heh. And is everybody really recaptured?  
  
Only time will tell.


	20. Bellatrona Bested

A/N: This is the twentieth part of the Game of the Gods.  
  
This is weird. I honestly never expected it to last this long.  


And sorry to anyone who was offended by the last chapter; it wasn't meant to be offensive. I'm trying to hit all the common LOTR Sue-types, and Christian!Sues are too common to be excused.  


I find this one far more deeply annoying, however.

  
  
Varda was looking the other way. Morgoth frowned at her back. She had turned around the moment he put the Sue on the table, and refused to turn to face him again. He felt his hopes rise. Could he finally have chosen a Sue so horrible that Varda couldn't defeat her?  
  
Then she turned around, and Morgoth pushed his chair back. The shine in her eyes was pity.  
  
"Morgoth," Varda began kindly, "I- well, there are times I am almost tempted to let you win."  
  
"You said just a while ago that you would never do that," Morgoth pointed out.  
  
"Well, yes, but you obviously don't learn." Varda gestured to the Sue on the table. "Or you wouldn't have chosen this one."  
  
"You'll probably defeat her, too," Morgoth muttered, folding his arms. "You always do."  
  
Varda sighed. "This time I won't play you."  
  
"You won't?" Then Morgoth's happiness dissolved as he remembered that Tulkas and Ulmo were no longer around to guard him from the Wrath of Fëanor. "But-"  
  
"Oh, don't worry, I'll sit here and watch you," Varda assured him. "Just not play to stop you." Then she whispered, "And I'll make sure that the big bad Elf doesn't get you."  
  
Morgoth glared, then remembered what she had already done for him and tried to look grateful.  
  
Varda sighed. "You haven't had enough practice with that expression. Just look gleeful, and I'll know what you mean."  
  
Morgoth did his best to oblige, though it was hard to be all _that_ gleeful when he was now listening for distracting sounds behind him.  
  
-----  
  
Bellatrona adjusted her breastplate and glared up the long slope of Caradhras. Ungrateful males, to leave without her! She had been hastening from the kingdom of Amazonia, where she had just put down a rebellion by the men who wanted to enslave all the women and make them brood mares, and that had delayed her a little. But they should have known that she was coming, to aid them on the Quest of the Ring. Her aid had been foretold by Gandalf long ago.  
  
"Men," she said to her palomino mare, who flicked her ears in agreement. "Fools, all of them."  
  
Bellatrona touched the mare's neck- she rode without saddle or bridle, since animals trusted her so much- and the horse began forging her way up the slope.  
  
-----  
  
"Just a question, Morgoth." Varda's voice was so polite that Morgoth couldn't tell what emotion she was hiding. He looked up suspiciously.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"She's wearing- only armor?" Varda gestured. "Breastplate and greaves? And all of it is made of metal?"  
  
"Yes, of course," said Morgoth. "She's a warrior Sue. She wouldn't wear some wussy skirt."  
  
"No, I knew that, but I thought she might like some cloth underneath it," said Varda.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Metal next to her skin. In a place as cold as Caradhras?"  
  
Morgoth shook his head. _I think she's just trying to confuse me_. "I don't understand what you're getting at."  
  
Varda sighed. "Just play."  
  
Morgoth peered at her with renewed suspicion, but began telling Bellatrona's tale again.  
  
------  
  
Bellatrona came on the Fellowship's camp just as they started setting out food. At once one of the pigs leaped to his feet and drew his sword. Bellatrona rolled her eyes.  
  
"Relax, Boromir," she said. "I've just come to join you on your quest."  
  
"A woman in battle?" Boromir laughed. "I would as soon see a pig dressed in armor and wade squealing into the fray!" He paused. "Actually, the pig would be smarter than the woman who dares to lift a sword."  
  
Bellatrona quivered with fury, but stopped herself from attacking him as she saw Gandalf the Grey stand up. His face was lined, worn, and old, but full of relief as he gazed at her.  
  
"Bellatrona," he said. "I am so glad that you came. Now our Quest is much safer."  
  
"Safer?" Boromir scoffed. "With a woman about?"  
  
Gandalf laughed. "Bellatrona is not one of the fragile maids you were used to in Gondor, Boromir. She is the ruler of a land of her own, one where women rule over men."  
  
"Why?" Boromir asked, gaping at Bellatrona.  
  
Bellatrona tossed her mane of red hair over her shoulder and smiled coolly at him. "Because women are wiser, and we are the source of life," she answered. "And because we don't do stupid things like underestimating our opponents just because of sex," she added, looking down her nose at him.  
  
Boromir gaped at her, having no idea how to answer.  
  
-----  
  
"'Fragile maids of Gondor?'" Varda asked, in an expressive way.  
  
Morgoth looked at her in confusion. "Well, yes. After all, Boromir's mother just withered away, or some such thing."  
  
"I see," said Varda, again with no expression.  
  
Morgoth shook his head. He would have thought that Varda, as a female herself, would have liked this expression of female power. But then, he had never really understood women, whether they were Vala, Elf, Maia, or stupid singing half-Elves, half-Maiar who somehow charmed him and then stole a Silmaril out of his crown-  
  
He gritted his teeth, and forced his thoughts back to Bellatrona.  
  
-----  
  
"I w-w-w-want a f-f-fire," Pippin said, his teeth chattering as the cold wind blew over them.  
  
"I cannot light one for fear of revealing my power," Gandalf answered.  
  
"I can," said Bellatrona, giving the wizard a scornful glance. "I am not afraid to show myself." Gandalf had the good grace to flush.  
  
Bellatrona held her hands out and called on her fire magic. At once, a bright red glow surrounded her fingers, and then it zapped out and became a cheerful fire. The hobbits crowded closer, their eyes bright with awe.  
  
"Typical women's trick," said Boromir sourly from the other side of the camp. He was upset that everyone was ignoring him and paying attention to Bellatrona since she joined them.  
  
Bellatrona at once sprang to her feet, her sword flashing free from the sheath. "I challenge you, Boromir," she said calmly. "I challenge you to fight me the way we fight in Amazonia."  
  
Boromir frowned at her. "And what way is that?"  
  
Bellatrona smiled slowly, scornfully, at him. "You are male, so you may keep your clothes. I will fight in the barest essentials."  
  
------  
  
Varda sighed.  
  
"What is it?" Morgoth demanded.  
  
"I'm trying to let you win, but you're making it very hard," Varda told him, and seemed about to say more. But then she looked over his shoulder, her eyes widening, and her mouth forming the name "Maedhros."  
  
Morgoth whirled around, but no one was there. He turned back to the sound of Varda chuckling.  
  
"You did something to my Sue!" he accused her, since he wasn't about to admit how frightened he was.  
  
"No," said Varda. "I couldn't do anything more than what I already did. Have the fight and get it over with." She locked her fingers over her face, only her eyes peering through. "It's horrible, but I can't look away."  
  
Morgoth scowled and started the fight between Bellatrona and Boromir.  
  
-----  
  
"Until first blood, then?" Boromir asked, watching Bellatrona as she stripped.  
  
"Why first blood?" Bellatrona asked with a smirk. "I assure you that I will be trying to kill you. You are a blight that should not be allowed in a world of women."  
  
She pulled off her breastplate, and then removed the ceremonial golden one from her pack and put it on. She did leave on her chainmail underwear and black leather boots, but removed the greaves. Her long red hair billowed freely around her face as she paced towards Boromir.  
  
He just gaped at her.  
  
Bellatrona rolled her eyes. _Stupid males. The only thing they're any good for is sex, and that's just ten minutes out of the twenty-four hours, for most of them._ "Are you fighting or not?"  
  
"You're fighting like that?" Boromir asked.  
  
"Of course," said Bellatrona. "Surely you're not afraid of a girl?"  
  
Boromir shook his head slowly, and they saluted each other, then began to circle.  
  
Bellatrona struck first, springing forward. Her sword clanged off his shield, but she had expected that, and at least he staggered. Bellatrona smiled complacently. That would show Boromir the power of a woman!  
  
Then a wind blew across the pass and swirled her hair in front of her eyes. Bellatrona blinked, trying to see. She couldn't see what Boromir was doing, and that annoyed her.  
  
She most certainly felt it, though, when his steel sword dived through the golden armor and out her back.  
  
-----  
  
Morgoth watched the gout of blood across the snow, and then lifted his head and glared at Varda.  
  
"You cheated. You _did_ do something to my Sue when my back was turned."  
  
"Did not."  
  
"Did too."  
  
"Did too."  
  
"Did not."  
  
Morgoth blinked as he realized what he'd just said, and glared at Varda. Varda sighed and shook her head, but the pity in her eyes had changed to laughter.  
  
"I really did try to let you win, Morgoth," she said. "But your Sue would have peeled her skin off with her armor, and made everyone look at her strangely for insulting Boromir, and golden armor is no protection against steel. In this case, it was your own stupid choices that defeated you, as it is almost every time."  
  
Morgoth started to answer, then noticed Varda was staring over his shoulder and muttering something about Maedhros again. This time, he refused to turn around.  
  
Something tapped him on the left shoulder, and something blunt rested on his right one.  
  
"Hi," said Maedhros, leaning forward so that Morgoth could see his hand and his stump. "Long time no see. I trust that you received my gift?"  
  
Morgoth shivered and looked appealingly at Varda. "What is he doing here?" he demanded.  
  
A stink of dead fish preceded Ulmo to the table, and his heavy words, "I caught him diving into the sea, trying to retrieve the Silmaril Maglor threw there. I would imprison him in Mandos again, but his father would only find some way to get him out. And so I think that he should play the game."  
  
"No," said Morgoth at once.  
  
"Oh, come, come, Morgoth," Varda said, grinning. "Wouldn't it be better for you to play an opponent you _know_ will cheat?"  
  
Morgoth just scowled at her.  
  
Varda leaned towards him. "Manwë is being unreasonable," she whispered. "I'm sure that he knows where Fëanor is. I can get it out of him. Just a few more starry-eyed glances, and he'll yield. But I need the time. Let him play you."  
  
"Yes, let me play you, Morgoth," Maedhros whispered. "We're going to have so much _fun_ together."  
  
Morgoth shuddered, but the thought of having both Fëanor and Maedhros eventually locked up again was too much temptation. He would play the son, for the chance of both father and son going away and never bothering him again.  
  
He looked at Varda and nodded. "But only if Ulmo stays here to guard me," he added.  
  
"Agreed," said Ulmo. From the look on the Lord of Water's face, Morgoth suspected he was more than annoyed with Maedhros right now, and would interfere to prevent anything drastic from the Elf. He relaxed a little.  
  
"Very well," said Varda, and slipped away from the table. Maedhros took her place at once, rubbing his hand and his stump.  
  
"We shall play, yes indeedy," he said.  
  
Morgoth eyed him warily, and chose the next Sue.   
  
  
  
Poor Morgoth. And I say that in all seriousness.

  



	21. Floriella Frustrated

  
  
A/N: Thank you for the reviews, everyone! To answer some questions: Yes, there are many, many feminist Sues who insult Boromir. He's a favorite target for being "evil" and going after cute widdle Frodo.

There will probably be anime and crossover Sues, but not at the moment.

Do not own the Tolkien characters- only the Boromir-Sues I have spontaneously decided to torture this week.  
  
The Game of the Gods, 21  
  
Maedhros smiled at the Sue Morgoth put on the table. "Pretty young thing," he said. "What's her name?"  
  
"Floriella," said Morgoth firmly.  
  
"Pretty name," said Maedhros.  
  
Morgoth eyed him uneasily. "You seem almost- calm," he ventured. "Do you approve of Sues, then?"  
  
Maedhros smiled at him. "Oh, no, but the attention is rather flattering," he said. "Father told me that one of your Sues went after me."  
  
Morgoth edged his chair back from the table.  
  
"Don't move your chair back for me," said Maedhros. "I think it's sweet."  
  
Morgoth frowned. "Sweet?"  
  
"Sweet that after all this time you're still obviously pining for me." Maedhros flipped a lock of red hair across his face and smiled at him. "I know that chaining me to the mountain was just a twisted way of saying you loved me." He held up his stump. "Of course, it cost me my hand, so I tend to think it rather too high a price. But I can pity someone who obviously suffers from unrequited love, and deals with it by sending Sues after me. After all, how could you admit that you loved the son of your worst enemy? You poor thing."  
  
Morgoth considered saying something, and then decided that, after all, there was nothing to say in response to that.  
  
The game began.  
  
-----  
  
Floriella gazed dreamily between the bushes at the Council of Elrond, and especially at _him_.   
  
Boromir. Prince of Gondor.  
  
-----  
  
"I thought he wasn't a Prince, either time a human named Boromir showed up," said Maedhros. "And that dreamy look fits the Sue quite well, I must say. Did you try it out in the mirror?" He leaned close and lowered his voice. "While thinking of me?"  
  
Morgoth flinched.  
  
"Oh, that's a yes, isn't it!" Maedhros crowed. "I really do think it's rather sweet."  
  
"I was never in love with you," Morgoth ground out.  
  
Maedhros laughed. "I don't blame you for denying it, Morgoth. Most people, Elf, Vala, or human, are in love with me and denying it. You should see some of the looks I used to get from Vairë. Yet she claimed she loved her husband."  
  
"Did you try to do anything about it?" Morgoth challenged.  
  
Maedhros shook his head and smiled. "With so many choices, why should I?"  
  
Morgoth turned back to the Sue, since Maedhros was doing nothing but confusing him.  
  
-----  
  
Floriella knew that Boromir was going to be tempted by the Ring, and would die. She had come from Earth to prevent that. She had undergone a special ritual that changed her into an Elf and sent her to Middle-earth, because the Order of Secret-Keepers had agreed with her that Boromir should not die. They were a special Order committed to correcting cosmic mistakes.  
  
-----  
  
Maedhros laughed.  
  
"What?" Morgoth demanded.  
  
"Pity they weren't around when Eru created you," said Maedhros.  
  
Morgoth scowled.  
  
Maedhros just shook his head and leaned back, tilting his head and smiling winsomely.  
  
-----  
  
So Floriella had come to redeem Boromir. She wouldn't let him die. She would protect him with all her heart.  
  
The Council ended, and Floriella revealed herself. Everyone was stunned by the beautiful she-elf-  
  
-----  
  
"The whaty-what now?" Maedhros asked.  
  
Morgoth folded his arms stubbornly. "She-elf. It's legitimate."  
  
"If Elves were animals, yes," said Maedhros. "Then, of course, most Sues are beasts."  
  
"I thought you liked them?"  
  
"The ones after me are different," Maedhros amended. "Though of course I was still kind to kill that one, instead of letting her waste away with hopeless love." He looked up at Morgoth. "I thought she was like the daughter you never had? She should have learned the uselessness of pining after me from her father."  
  
"I was _not_ in love with you!" Morgoth shouted.  
  
"Then why you are blushing?"  
  
Morgoth hurried into Floriella's tale.  
  
------  
  
Floriella managed to calm the Council down and persuade them to let her go with the Fellowship, by pointing out that they never knew when a Fellowship member might fall to the temptation of the Ring, and thus needed an extra one. Elrond seemed a bit reluctant to agree at first, but Floriella smiled at him, soul glowing in her golden-green eyes, and Elrond yielded.  
  
Floriella sought out Boromir on the battlements of Rivendell's palace the first chance she got. It was a soft, romantic scene, the moon shining brightly and setting his hair on fire.  
  
------  
  
"Oh, _Morgoth_."  
  
Morgoth looked up. Maedhros was touching a lock of his own hair.  
  
"Even when you think you're describing Boromir, you can't get away from me," he said. "Moonlight does not set someone's hair on fire, as you should know very well. Especially dark hair. You're still thinking of a certain red-haired Elf-"  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"-whom you really wanted to-"  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"hold and sigh over-"  
  
Morgoth lunged at Maedhros across the table.  
  
Maedhros laughed and jumped back just out of reach, saying, "Now, now. What will Fëanor think?"  
  
Morgoth sat back down, muttering.  
  
-----  
  
"I have long sought you, Boromir, son of Denethor," said Floriella softly. "I know your noble soul, and I know that you will suffer on the Quest. I can feel the darkness beckoning to you."  
  
Boromir eyed her strangely. "How- poetic, my lady," he said, edging away from her. "Excuse me, but I do have errands to run." He turned and hurried away, leaving Floriella to stand and frown after him. What had she done wrong?  
  
-----  
  
Morgoth narrowed his eyes. "You did something," he accused Maedhros. "My Sue has never gone wrong so early in the story before."  
  
"I don't think I did anything," said Maedhros. "You're just too distracted by the thought of your temptation finally sitting that close."  
  
Morgoth's hands flexed, but he kept them at his sides.  
  
-----  
  
Floriella leaned close to Boromir. They were in the darkness of Moria, and she had sensed him more and more often staring at Frodo and the Ring. He also went out of his way to avoid her, which told her that he wanted to avoid his redemption. Well, she would not let him. He would not die. It was a cosmic mistake. He would live, and fight at Aragorn's side, and she would be with him.  
  
"Boromir," she said. "Come back to the light."  
  
Boromir glared at her; she could see that much by the light of the wizard's staff. "Which light, my lady?" he asked in a voice of frigid politeness.  
  
Floriella foundered. "The- goodness," she said, and then found her stride. "The goodness of the hills and the streams, of sunlight and singing birds."  
  
Boromir stared at her oddly, but kept silent, so Floriella went on. "I know that you are thinking of taking the Ring."  
  
Boromir's eyes narrowed to slits. "Excuse me, my lady, but I have to talk to Aragorn," he said, and stood and walked over to him. Floriella stared after him disconsolately.  
  
_I could almost believe all the slash stories about those two_, she thought miserably.  
  
-----  
  
Maedhros giggled. Morgoth looked at him.  
  
"What's so funny?"  
  
"Tell you later," Maedhros choked out, waving a hand to get Morgoth to continue.  
  
Morgoth tried to watch Floriella with one eye and Maedhros with the other, certain that he was up to something. Of course, he was Fëanorian; the greater wonder would have been if he were _not_ up to something.  
  
-----  
  
Floriella sat down beside Boromir. For just a minute, she thought she saw him stiffen and stifle a groan, but she ignored that. It must have been her imagination.  
  
"Boromir," she said, "I know about the choice that the Lady Galadriel offered you."   
  
Boromir eyed her. "Do you, now?"  
  
"Yes. It was to take the Ring, wasn't it, and rule over everything?" Floriella sighed sadly and placed a hand on his arm. "Do not take it, Boromir. The Quest-"  
  
"-stands on the edge of a knife, yes," said Boromir, edging away from her. "Excuse me, I have to go talk to the Lady Galadriel." He hurried away.  
  
Floriella stared after him, and felt an ugly jealousy begin to build in her heart. _Could he want her instead of me?_  
  
-----  
  
"That was probably a question that you asked many, many times in your mind," Maedhros said. "Was I in love with Lúthien? With a mortal woman? With a maiden of Doriath? You could think I would refuse your charms only for a rival-"  
  
"You know as well as I what happened on that mountain," Morgoth hissed.  
  
"Yes. You carried me away so that you could have me all to yourself."  
  
Morgoth hid his face in his hands.  
  
-----  
  
"Come with me, child."  
  
Floriella bristled at Galadriel's condescending tone. She was not a child; she was part of the Order of the Secret-Keepers! But she stood and followed Galadriel towards what she knew was the Mirror.  
  
Galadriel turned and faced her, but did not offer to show Floriella anything in the Mirror. Instead, she said, "Boromir tells me that you have been encouraging him to think of the Ring. Did you not know how dangerous that is, child?"  
  
"I can help him resist it," said Floriella hotly.  
  
Galadriel's eyes narrowed, just slightly. "Why?"  
  
"Because the Ring does not affect me."  
  
Floriella had barely uttered the words when Galadriel began to blaze with terrible might. Floriella fell back, one hand over her face. The green light and loud voice in the movie had been silly. This was nothing short of horrifying.  
  
"Only servants of Sauron are not tempted by the Ring," said Galadriel. "You would carry it to him if you could. I have fought the Shadow too often and too long to let that happen if I can prevent it."  
  
"No, you don't understand-"  
  
The world exploded in pain, and Floriella never was sure what killed her, some magic power or the arrows of Elven archers.  
  
-----  
  
Morgoth slammed his hands on the table. "Damn you, _you cheated_!" he howled at Maedhros.  
  
"Not at all," said Maedhros. "You only dropped your Sue into a canonical world, instead of a created one."  
  
"That is not possible," Morgoth snarled. "She should have changed Boromir's character merely by being there."  
  
"Oh, she might have," said Maedhros, "if you were not terribly, terribly distracted." He flipped his hair over his face again, and peered out from beneath it. "By me."  
  
Morgoth sneered. "Where did you get the idea that I wanted you? From Gurthang?"  
  
"No," said Maedhros cheerfully, and pulled out a bright blue book with doodles and hearts covering it. "From this." He smiled tauntingly. "Your private diary. Father fetched it for me while I was after the Silmaril."  
  
Morgoth screamed in horror and tried to grab it from Maedhros's hand, aware of Ulmo staring at him. Maedhros flipped open the diary at an obviously well-worn page and began to read.  
  
"And today my love left me, because that bastard Fingon rescued him-"  
  
Luckily, no one got to hear the rest, since alarms exploded again, and Ulmo was yelling something, and Maedhros was laughing so hard that Morgoth got hold of the diary. Maedhros tumbled back, curled in on himself and wheezing.  
  
"Damn him to Mandos and beyond," said Ulmo. "Damn him."  
  
Morgoth looked up, surprised. "Thank you," he said.  
  
"Not _him_," said Ulmo, with a withering look at Maedhros. "Fëanor. The bastard has the Silmaril that was in the sea. I was watching this instead of him!" Away he ran.  
  
Leaving Morgoth alone with Maedhros.  
  
He turned around, in slow dread, only to find that the red-haired Elf had vanished. Morgoth sighed in relief, and then realized what that meant.  
  
He was alone.  
  
He had a chance to win.  
  
He quickly drew out a Sue and set her on the board, sighing with relief. "At least no one else is aware of this," he muttered.  
  
A snicker came from under the table.  
  
"Tell anyone about this, Sauron," said Morgoth calmly, "and I'll tell everyone about your secret stash of Lúthien pictures."  
  
The snickering stopped.  
  
Morgoth put the diary in his lap, and then waited to steady his shaking hands before he began the next game.  
  
It turned out to be quite a wait.  
  
  
  
All right, now that was weird.  
  
But fun.


	22. Turingethil Troubled

Just because you try to make it canonical doesn't mean it's not a Mary Sue.  
  
  
  
Don't own the Tolkien characters.  
  
The Game of the Gods, 22  
  
Morgoth looked cautiously around as he prepared to start playing, but if anyone was nearby save Sauron, he couldn't tell. There did seem to be a distant uproar, so the Valar were probably still getting upset over Fëanor, but that didn't concern him.  
  
As long as Fëanor didn't rush up behind him.  
  
Morgoth carefully turned his chair so that he could see both the board and the table, while keeping his diary in his lap.  
  
Of course, that didn't mean that someone couldn't come up from behind him at the new angle. Morgoth frowned in frustration.  
  
Sauron snickered from under the table again.  
  
"I mean it," said Morgoth. "The Lúthien stash _and_ that stash of the female werewolves you were keeping."  
  
The snickering not only stopped, but Morgoth had the impression that Sauron had moved far back under the table.  
  
He smirked, and began to play, in his indulgence adding a few things he hadn't dared to add before.  
  
------  
  
_Protector of the Little Ones_  
  
By Abbeybaby  
  
_Okay, I know that you say vampires don't exist in Middle-earth, but they used to! And I found a way to make it work. All you have to do is read along. And remember: Turingethil is NOT a Mary Sue! She has flaws!_  
  
-----  
  
Morgoth smirked as the high-pitched voice resounded through the darkness, then nearly spilled his diary off his lap in surprise when another high-pitched call answered it. He stared as a dark shape fluttered past him and alighted near the board, but understood when it turned a withered face towards him.  
  
"You called me?" Thuringwethil asked.  
  
Morgoth shook his head. "No. Go away."  
  
"But there was a voice much like my own," Thuringwethil persisted. "What message do you want me to carry?"  
  
"No message."  
  
"What message do you want me to carry?"  
  
"Go away, you bloody thing!"  
  
Thuringwethil rose at once and skimmed away into the darkness. Morgoth blinked. That had been easier than he expected.  
  
He turned back to the board.  
  
-----  
  
"Such a small thing," Boromir was muttering, when he was interrupted.  
  
"Drop the Ring at once, and turn around slowly."  
  
Boromir would have spun and grabbed at his sword, but something sharp was already poking him in the back. He let the Ring fall, and turned around slowly, gasping when he saw the woman before him.  
  
She was tall and pale, with long dark hair and bright red lips. She had wide wings that extended from her back, but after a moment changed from wings into the folds of a sable cloak. Her eyes were a piercing black normally, filled with the sorrow of worlds, but they glowed red with anger now as she looked at him.  
  
"I have come to protect the hobbits," she said, whispering so only Boromir could hear. "You shall not hurt Frodo and the rest while I am here."  
  
"Turingethil!"  
  
Boromir fell back as Frodo scrambled past him, forgetting the Ring in his hurry to hug his friend. The rest of the hobbits crowded around, laughing and cheering, while the Company watched in bewilderment. Turingethil hugged them all, then looked up when Gandalf neared.  
  
"Who is this?" the wizard asked.  
  
"I could say the same of you, old man," Turingethil replied in a drawl, flipping her cloak over her shoulder.  
  
Gandalf gaped at her.  
  
"In any case," Turingethil ended, "this is not the place to talk about it. There would be an avalanche soon, if you kept climbing. I will carry the hobbits back down, and then we must go through the Mines of Moria." Her cloak turned abruptly back into wings, and then she grew into a winged wolf, large enough for all the hobbits to climb aboard, while the rest of the Company blinked.  
  
-----  
  
"Message for you."  
  
Morgoth turned around in annoyance. "What do you _want_?" he hissed.  
  
Thuringwethil looked at him stolidly. "I met Galadriel, and gave your message to her. She told me to tell you to sod off."  
  
Morgoth swore in frustration. "Just go away and don't come back!"  
  
Thuringwethil once more took to the air. Morgoth turned back to the game, shaking his head. How in the world had Sauron put up with her?  
  
Someone muttered something under the table, about "really pretty with her bat-fell off."  
  
Morgoth rolled his eyes. Sauron was such a lech.   
  
----  
  
When they were inside the Mines of Moria, Gandalf turned to Turingethil. "Tell us your history."  
  
Turingethil laughed. "You should know it, old man." She settled on her heels. "I was old before the world began. I was an Ainu who chose not to descend into the world, because I did not want the limitations of a Vala. But when I realized that there was war in the world, and that no one cared for the very small ones- the hobbits- I went to Eru and asked him to place me in the world, in a mortal body. So he did. This body is the daughter of Thuringwethil and Draugluin-"  
  
-----  
  
"No, she's not."  
  
Morgoth sighed. "Thuringwethil, what are you doing here?"  
  
"To tell you that Galadriel said she's not going to bloody go away, she did that once," said Thuringwethil, fluttering around his chair. "And that is not my daughter."  
  
"She is for the sake of the story."  
  
"But she's not."  
  
"She is for the sake of the story."  
  
"But she's not."  
  
Morgoth tried to ignore her.  
  
"But she's not."  
  
Morgoth gave her a precise, detailed description of what she could do with herself, and Thuringwethil left again.  
  
------  
  
"-so I'm half-vampire and half-werewolf. But my soul is the soul of an Ainu. I can shapechange, see the future, and I'm immortal. I know that the Quest will fail without my help." Turingethil smiled narrowly at Gandalf. "That is who I am. Frodo found me one day when my wings had tangled in a tree and helped me get free, and now I am protecting the hobbits. That is all."  
  
"But-"  
  
"Yes?" Turingethil glared at Boromir. She knew he wanted the Ring.  
  
"You are not an evil creature?"  
  
"No." Turingethil turned her back on him.  
  
"'Scuse me, 'scuse me, pardon me, not here..." Fëanor said as he calmly trotted past.  
  
-----  
  
Morgoth yelped and jumped back from the board, then leaned forward again.  
  
-----  
  
Fëanor looked up and gave him a cheery wave. "Just came to get some mithril," he said. "Don't mind me."  
  
"Who are you?" Turingethil asked, wrinkling up her perfect nose.  
  
"Fancy you not knowing that," said Fëanor.  
  
Turingethil tossed her head. "I am born to every crown, including the crown of knowledge, and I know everyone who is worthy of being noticed."  
  
Fëanor gave her an odd stare for a moment. "Born to every crown?"  
  
-----  
  
Morgoth gave a groan and covered his face with his hands.  
  
-----  
  
But Fëanor shrugged and turned back to his quest. "Pardon me, not here..." he said, passing into the darkness.  
  
The members of the Company blinked after him, but the presence of Turingethil was more compelling, and they turned back to her. So intent were they on talking to her that they didn't see Pippin straying near the brink of the well, or dropping the stone into it, until the echoing noise sprang up.  
  
"Fool of a Took!" Gandalf yelled.  
  
Turingethil was on her feet at once, drawing her sword, pointing it at him. "Don't ever, ever do that again," she said, "or I will turn you into a rabbit and put you among foxes."  
  
Once again, Gandalf was reduced to gaping at her.  
  
"Sorry to be in the way, do ignore me," said Fëanor, going past with a bucket full of mithril.  
  
-----  
  
"She says she's going to kick your ass."  
  
"What?" snapped Morgoth, looking up. Thuringwethil was clinging to the back of his chair and looking at him with her dull eyes.  
  
"Galadriel," said Thuringwethil. "I met her and gave her your message, and she says she's coming to kick your ass."  
  
Morgoth flinched, and hurried on with the game. Galadriel would stop him; he knew she would. She was far too prone to glaring at men and making them feel like little boys with one glance, while at the same time not letting them blame her. It had to be the reason Celeborn had stayed with her for so long.  
  
-----  
  
Turingethil flew above the hobbits, guarding them from the Balrog as they ran through Moria. She knew what she had to do, and she did it, the moment it crossed onto the bridge. Hovering, her great bat-wings beating about her, she turned and dove for its neck.  
  
She bit into the black skin, and the Balrog screamed and thrashed.  
  
"Have you seen my husband around here?"  
  
Thuringwethil looked up in startlement. Facing her was a tired-looking red-haired Elf. The woman brushed her hair out of her face and gave Turingethil an inquiring glance, dancing about nimbly as the bridge rocked.  
  
Turingethil was sure that she recognized the woman as another Sue, and was willing to help her. After all, what Elf had red hair? "Who are you looking for?"  
  
"Not here," said Fëanor, trotting along another bridge.  
  
"Him," said the red-haired Elf, and started running after him. "Thanks."  
  
"Is he your lust object?" Turingethil called after her, clinging on as the Balrog tried to throw her off. It couldn't do it; vampires had strength beyond strength.  
  
The woman gave her a very odd look. "No, my husband," she said, and called, "Fëanor! You will come back and listen to me right now!"  
  
"You and I don't have anything to discuss, Nerdanel," said Fëanor, calmly looking straight ahead.  
  
"How about you encouraging our sons to wild behavior? And upsetting Maglor so badly that Nienna says he's going to need group therapy? And rebelling against the Valar for the sake of a few laughs? And those bloody Silmarils, which you always loved more than me..."  
  
The two arguing Elves faded from sight, and Turingethil shook her head and turned back to the Balrog, biting it neatly in the neck. It slumped. Turingethil smiled. She was not evil, but the power of the body was still that of a vampire.  
  
-----  
  
"She's not my daughter."  
  
Morgoth glared at Thuringwethil. "It doesn't really matter," he spat. "I say that I can do anything I want."  
  
"You can?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Thuringwethil fluttered her wings, but said nothing.  
  
-----  
  
"We should not rest for long. We should be on the move as soon as possible."  
  
Turingethil smiled at Gandalf's concern. She had foreseen the future as it would have been without her, and this was nothing. Gandalf would have died, and Frodo been hurt. Now, everyone was alive and feeling a bit bewildered, and they would be in the woods of Lórien soon enough.   
  
Turingethil stretched, then folded her wings and strolled down towards the still, clear water that lay not far away. As she knelt and scooped up some water in her hands, she blinked. In the water shone a crown, and she could not see any reflection of her face at all.  
  
Turingethil knew what that meant. She had been born to every crown. She would be Queen of Gondor eventually, and of Mirkwood and Rivendell. She just had to take this crown, too.  
  
She reached for it, but the crown seemed to be beyond her grasp. She leaned further into the water, stretching out her hand.  
  
-----  
  
Someone suddenly shoved Morgoth hard. He lurched forward, but recovered himself and stared around, fearful that Galadriel was nearby.  
  
No Galadriel yet, he saw with a sigh of relief, but then he realized the diary had fallen for his lap.  
  
Frantically, he grabbed for it.  
  
-----  
  
Turingethil gasped as she felt the shore suddenly give way, and she tumbled into the water. She tried to lunge back up, but her cloak-wings tangled around her, waterlogged, and she fell back so that the surface covered her face.  
  
"Help!" she tried to shout, but her mouth filled with water. The crown still shone steadily and calmly in front of her as Turingethil drowned in Mirrormere.  
  
-----  
  
Morgoth shrieked. He had been almost too distracted to note the death of his Sue, but now he was far more worried about his diary.  
  
Thuringwethil reeled past him, then hovered, and Morgoth saw his diary gripped in her claws.  
  
He also saw a flash, in her eyes, of an intelligence he had never suspected was there.  
  
He snatched at her, and the vampire laughed tauntingly at him and shot into the sky, shouting, "I know someone who will pay me well for this!"  
  
Morgoth slumped back on the table, panting, exhausted.  
  
Sauron snickered again.  
  
"Morgoth, I am going to kick your ass," said Galadriel's voice.  
  
  
  
And what is Fëanor doing? And where is Thuringwethil going?  
  
Only time will tell.


	23. Mirandola Mystified

A/N: Thank you again for the reviews!

Crossover Sues Week in the Game of the Gods! Let's see how much havoc they can cause...  
  
(Oh, just to clear up any misunderstandings: Turingethil, the last Sue, is definitely dead, since she was immortal like an Elf, not a Vala. She won't be coming back to trouble Morgoth or any of the others).  
  
  
Don't own the Tolkien characters.  
  
The Game of the Gods, 23  
  
"Morgoth."  
  
Morgoth hid, and shivered.  
  
"Morgoth," said Galadriel patiently, "you're bigger than the table. I can see it lifted up off the ground. Besides, there's not room enough there for both you and Sauron."  
  
Morgoth ignored her, hastily fishing in his box of Sues. There were some that might distract her- ah, this one!  
  
"Come out so I can have more room to beat you into the pulp you deserve to be," said Galadriel, and Morgoth had the feeling she was bending down and looking directly at him, though he refused to open his eyes and check.  
  
Fumbling, Morgoth threw the Sue onto the board.  
  
"What the-?" Galadriel began.  
  
Then she screamed in rage, so Morgoth assumed his Sue was doing a good job. He huddled, and shivered and shook, remembering how Galadriel had reacted when Fëanor asked for a strand of her hair. Fëanor hadn't been able to walk straight for a week afterwards. Actually insulting her would make her do something a good deal worse.   
  
If his Sue could spare him from that for a while, Morgoth was willing to sacrifice her.  
  
-----  
  
"Run! He's coming!!!"  
  
Mirandola Potter pushed her legs, forced herself to run, all the while almost sobbing for breath. The lightning-bolt scar on her forehead burned like fire. Voldemort was here, and he had just killed her twin brother Harry, the savior of the wizarding world that everyone knew about. Now it was up to Mirandola to stop him.  
  
But she knew she couldn't stop him. Not yet. She had to run, had to push, had to go somewhere else until she could gather the strength to stop him.  
  
Whipping out her wand- eleven inches, oak, with a gryphon's tail feather core- she pointed it at the air and shouted, "_Spatio mundus_!"  
  
The air opened in front of her, and the terrified fifteen-year-old jumped through, her long black hair whipping behind her. Silence and darkness swallowed her almost at once.  
  
*****  
  
Mirandola opened her eyes slowly. She lay on the bank of a pool, and all around her, dried brown grass swayed in the wind.  
  
Slowly, she stood, and glanced around, gaze arrested as she caught sight of herself in the water. The glamour that shielded her had collapsed, and she could see her Elvish face and pointed ears.  
  
Mirandola sighed and pushed her hair back behind her ears. The worst had happened, then. She had transformed back into what she really was- Harry's twin half-sister, daughter of Lily Potter and Lord Elrond Halfelven- and she had come back back to Middle-earth. She was needed to save it once again. It needed her even more desperately than the wizarding world did.  
  
Resigned, she began to walk.  
  
-----  
  
"Morgoth? What is this?"  
  
Morgoth kept his eyes stubbornly closed. He didn't need to look, he didn't have to look-  
  
"Morgoth."  
  
That was a different voice. Morgoth nearly blubbered in relief. Varda was back, and she would take care of him. He started to crawl out from under the table towards her voice.  
  
"He sent a girl into Arda from another place," Galadriel said. "And she was waving a stick around and shouting nonsense. I don't see why that should send a girl into Arda from another place."  
  
Morgoth froze. He knew that Varda hated Sues from other worlds with a passion, and she would have stopped him from using Mirandola if she had been playing opposite him when the game began. _No doubt_, he thought, _there are all sorts of ways that worldwalking spells can go wrong_.  
  
"He did that?" Varda asked.  
  
"Yes," said Galadriel.  
  
There was a silence. Then Varda said, "This is called a Sue. It disrupts the balance of Middle-earth by being too powerful, or an impossible child of yours, or from another world."  
  
"I only had one child," said Galadriel, sounding puzzled.  
  
"They make others up."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"The creators of these Sues. Morgoth, in this case."  
  
"Then we should make him-"  
  
Morgoth stopped his ears, in case Galadriel's next words gave him nightmares for the rest of his immortal existence. When he thought she was done, he cautiously lifted his hands away.  
  
"-and then strip his skin away with knives-"  
  
Morgoth whimpered and covered his ears again, only uncovering them when he heard Varda say, "Of course she can be defeated. Watch."  
  
Morgoth huddled down. Every moment they were paying attention to Mirandola was one moment they weren't paying attention to him, and he began to hope he could escape.  
  
-----  
  
Mirandola gathered nuts and berries as she walked through the woods. She didn't know where exactly in Middle-earth she was, but she didn't think that mattered. The strength of her destiny was that it would always draw her exactly where she needed to go, and she would know what she needed to do when she got there.  
  
-----  
  
"What an insufferable brat," said Galadriel.  
  
"Precisely," said Varda. "But you should know that we can't defeat her just by calling her an insufferable brat. The best time to stop a Sue coming from another world is when she's in the middle of the transition. Pity you didn't know enough to do something about it then."  
  
"Can I be the one to stop her?" Galadriel asked.  
  
"You know how?" Varda asked in doubt. Morgoth uncurled a tiny, tiny bit. They seemed to have forgotten about him.  
  
"Oh, I have some ideas," said Galadriel sweetly. "Considering what she did to get here. And who brought her here."  
  
Morgoth curled up tightly again.  
  
-----  
  
Mirandola knew that she was getting nearer her destination when she found tracks pressed into the bracken. She bent over them, touched the nearest track with one hand, and closed her eyes. She had the ability to read an object, which was how she had known that Ron Weasley had betrayed her and her brother; his left-behind wand carried traces of his treachery.  
  
Into her mind sprang an image of the man who had made the track. He was tall, clad in greens and browns, and keen of eye. Mirandola smiled as she recognized him. He must be a Ranger of Ithilien, and she would know his name the moment she looked into his eyes and read his mind.  
  
----  
  
Galadriel made a spluttering noise.  
  
"What is it?" Varda asked mildly, seeming amused.  
  
"She's claiming that she can know the inner heart?"  
  
"Why not? You can."  
  
"I'm allowed!" Galadriel snapped. "I'm a Noldo who's lived since before the sun rose, and seen more battle than this brat ever will. I have seen the Trees in flower. Has she seen the Trees in flower?"  
  
"No," said Varda mildly.  
  
"Did she live before the sun rose?"  
  
"No."  
  
"And was she Lady of the Golden Wood and the shield against Sauron for thousands of years?"  
  
"Assuredly not."  
  
"Then there you have it," said Galadriel. "_I_ am bloody allowed to read minds; you know I paid enough for my wisdom. _This_ child is not."  
  
-----  
  
Mirandola heard shouting ahead, and began to run. Her quest was pulling at her more strongly than ever now. She could see images forming in her head, of brave little hobbits cornered by Rangers of Ithilien-  
  
One of them had the Ring! She gasped loudly and ran as hard as she could. Her mission was to protect him and guide him to Mount Doom, and if she didn't hurry, then the Rangers would discover the Ring and take it.  
  
She burst out of the bracken in time to see one of the Rangers reaching out towards the hobbits. Mirandola pulled out her wand, quick as lightning, and aimed it at his hand. "_Wingardium Leviosa!_" she shouted.  
  
Nothing happened.  
  
-----  
  
Galadriel snickered.  
  
-----  
  
Mirandola stared at the wand in her hand, then at the men in front of her, who stared back. "What's going on here?" she asked, speaking unconsciously in English.  
  
One of them spat a stream of Westron at her, so fast that Mirandola couldn't follow it. She backed away uncertainly. She hadn't spent much time in Middle-earth, and her grasp of the language was not perfect.  
  
"Just calm down," she said in English. "I won't hurt you."  
  
The question, or threat, was repeated, and the sword in the hand of the man in front of her rose. Mirandola tried to read his mind, but something, probably her confusion or fear, prevented her.  
  
-----  
  
"Or the influence of another mind more accustomed to this kind of thing," said Galadriel smugly, "and perfectly able to use the power that she only has a sham of."  
  
-----  
  
Mirandola couldn't believe that her wand didn't work. Perhaps her voice had been shaking on the spell, or she hadn't aimed her wand in just the right way. She tried again, crying "_Alohomora_!" and aiming her wand precisely at the clasps of the Ranger's belt. It wouldn't do much, but it would fall down and distract him and give her time to get away.  
  
Once again, nothing happened, and the stream of Westron was repeated savagely.  
  
Mirandola turned and tried to run.  
  
Sword or arrow, it really didn't matter what pinned her to the ground and killed her; all she could think about was her unfulfilled destiny. All the Rangers of Ithilien could think about for a short time was the strange spy, probably from Harad, who had babbled at them in an unknown language, but great matters were afoot and they soon forgot her.  
  
*****  
  
In the normal, unpolluted wizarding world, Harry Potter opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. It had been an odd dream, starting with his own death, but he was used to dreaming about that.   
  
He couldn't go back to sleep, but he could get started on his Potions essay, and he swung out of bed. Soon enough, in the struggle to detail just _why_ the wolfsbane should be mixed in this particular way, he let the dream fade as dreams tend to do.  
  
-----  
  
Morgoth crawled out from under the table, fuming. That had been a good one!  
  
"Why did she fail?" he asked loudly. "I want to know-"  
  
He fell silent when he saw Galadriel standing and gazing at him with her eyes narrowed.  
  
"She spoke two languages that don't exist in Middle-earth," said Galadriel cool. "Latin, and English. The one could not bear her magic, and the other was unintelligible to Faramir's people. Really, Morgoth, did you think the languages of Arda would cease to exist just because she somehow managed to jump between worlds?"  
  
"She could still have read minds, and used the language that way," said Morgoth defensively. "You interfered."  
  
Galadriel laughed. "Because you gave her a power that can only be gained in Arda through suffering and long wisdom." She leaned forward. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't kick your ass the way I promised."  
  
"Because I have something more important to say to him," said Varda. "We'll discuss this later, Galadriel," she added, when the Noldo started to raise her voice.  
  
Galadriel gave them both a narrow-eyed stare, then shook her head. "Fëanor won't be happy if he finds out what you're planning," she warned Varda.  
  
"Are you going to tell him?" Varda asked.  
  
Galadriel laughed. "No. But I've learned that it's better not to cross him."  
  
"I thought you showed him," said Morgoth. Much as he didn't like Galadriel, what she had done to Fëanor for asking for some of her hair was a cherished memory.  
  
Galadriel smiled coolly at him. "I did. But you're talking about the man who began the Oath and the Kinslayings- and cursed you thrice, as you remember. I would stay out of his way." She turned and stalked into the darkness.  
  
Varda watched her go, then shook her head. "It is rather creepy when she does that," she muttered, and turned to look at Morgoth. "I found out that Manwë had given Fëanor an island in the Shadowy Seas as his sanctuary. But he didn't stay there long, or leave anything behind except this." She held out a piece of paper.  
  
Morgoth took it, and stared at it. "Some of this looks familiar."  
  
"Really? None of us could make much of it."  
  
"He- he drew new tengwar for the name of my Sue when I played him," said Morgoth, eyes half-closed. "I believe this is in the same alphabet."  
  
"Have you this new tengwar?"  
  
Morgoth turned to begin searching for the crumpled paper, and nearly slammed into Thorondor. The eagle gave an irritated screech and handed him the message, then zoomed away among the stars. Morgoth opened it quickly, certain it was just some taunting note from Fëanor.  
  
It said simply,  
  
_Morgoth,  
  
I have your diary. You will make no effort to oppose or recapture my son, or I will read it aloud to all the inhabitants of Mandos.  
  
Finwë._  
  
Morgoth groaned loudly.  
  
"Bad news, I take it?" Varda asked.  
  
  
  
Stupid people crossing HP with LOTR. No one ever does it well.


	24. Zneirra Zapped

A/N: Thank you for the reviews, everyone! Crossover week continues.

(This chapter has been slightly revised, thanks to Tindomiel catching a name mistake. Thank you, Tindomiel.

Also, just to make it clear: Good non-parody crossovers may exist, but I haven't seen them, particularly with FR. I like to mock things I think aren't done well, like crossovers…or Mary Sues).

Do not own the Tolkien characters, as per usual. Also, I don't own the drow or their goddess; those are property of Wizards of the Coast.  
  
The Game of the Gods, 24  
  
"Just one," Morgoth pleaded.  
  
Varda sighed. "You know that your whining never does you any good. It was what got Eru angry at you in the first place."  
  
"That was _singing_."  
  
"Whining," said Varda firmly. "Or whinging, if you prefer that word."  
  
"Just one," Morgoth said, and this time added so much deliberate whine to his voice that Varda winced.  
  
"All right," she granted unwillingly. "Just one, before we go to seek Fëanor."  
  
"Do you have any idea where he is?"  
  
"I know where to begin looking for him," said Varda. "He'll be trying to get the Silmaril that Maedhros dropped in the fiery chasm, I shouldn't wonder, since he knows we have Eärendil well-guarded. Vairë wove that event into her webs, as she did everything about the history of Arda. I've sent for her to bring that tapestry, and that should give us a map."  
  
"But it's taking her some time to find it," said Morgoth.  
  
"Well, yes," said Varda, giving him a strange look. "Endless halls, one tapestry, her own antipathy to Fëanor being returned to Mandos to criticize her weaving... I expect it to take a while."  
  
"So we have time to play one Sue that I can win, and you won't oppose me."  
  
"I never said that."  
  
"You thought it," Morgoth pressed triumphantly. When he could stand to look past the shining starlight into Varda's eyes, he found her greatest weakness. Her emotions always shone there, whether she was furious or joyful.  
  
Varda hesitated, then sighed. "Play one, without opposition from me. But I can't do anything about the stupidity that got you last time."  
  
"Don't worry," said Morgoth exultantly, digging in his box of Sues. "This time, reality shall work _for_ me-"  
  
He stopped, and stared. Two of the slots near the very back of the Sue box were empty, save for a folded piece of paper placed carefully in each of them. Morgoth picked them up, wondering, and unfolded them. Each bore two words, in Maedhros's handwriting. Morgoth would have recognized it anywhere. Deadly or not with a sword in his left hand, Maedhros hadn't figured out how to hold a quill that well.  
  
_Ha ha._  
  
Morgoth shook his head, and selected the appropriate Sue.  
  
"Hurry up, Morgoth," Varda called. "The endless halls aren't _that_ endless."  
  
Morgoth stood up hurriedly, refusing to worry about what Maedhros obviously wanted him to worry about. They were going to recapture the nutty Elf and his even nuttier father soon, and put them somewhere where they could trouble him no longer. That was the goal.  
  
Morgoth placed his Sue on the board. Varda sighed. "Another cross-world one?"  
  
"This one works."  
  
Varda waved a hand. "As you will."  
  
-----  
  
Zneirra dug further and further, desperately, the stone scratching her delicate ebony-black hands and making blood drip down them. But behind her was the greater pain, the greater danger. Behind her lay her mother, Matron Akizz'nizt, and the merciless priestesses of the Spider Queen. Zneirra's only chance was to make it to another world, as she had heard those digging deeply enough in the tunnels could sometimes do.  
  
A voice laughed mockingly behind her, and called something in the tongue of the drow.  
  
"_Vith_," Zneirra swore softly, as the stone continued to stand before her. Tears ran down her face. She did not have the heart of an evil dark elf, and for that she was going to die.  
  
The stone gave way abruptly before her, and instead of hard rock, there was the softness of the Demiplane of Shadow. Zneirra lurched forward at once, grateful as it curled around her.  
  
******  
  
She woke in sunlight that stung her eyes, on the bank of a rolling stream. Carefully, Zneirra stood up, squinting, and looked down at her reflection in the water.  
  
A young drow maiden gazed back at her, ebony of skin, her long, thick white hair carefully bound behind her sharply pointed ears with a band of blue stone. Her eyes would glow red in the darkness with her heat vision, but now she could just barely make out that they were shining a brilliant blue.  
  
That wasn't all that was shining a brilliant blue, Zneirra realized. There was a pair of eyes behind her.  
  
She spun, and found herself facing an arrow-  
  
------  
  
The table shook, and Morgoth had to grab for his Sue before she tumbled. He glared at Varda. "You said you weren't going to do that."  
  
"I didn't do that," said Varda with a frown. "It's probably Fëanor, hunting for the Silmaril."  
  
"What does he want with them, anyway?" Morgoth asked, his curiosity overcoming his impatience to finish the story. "They're just jewels."  
  
Varda stared at him. "You are the last one in the world who can say that without hypocrisy."  
  
Morgoth smiled for a moment, then realized Varda hadn't meant it as a compliment, and returned to his Sue.  
  
The ground shook again, but this time he ignored it.  
  
-----  
  
She spun, and found herself facing an arrow, and a pale-skinned elf on the other end of it. She shrank away from him, since she had heard all her life how the _darthiir_, the faerie elves, had driven the drow underground and would kill them if they had the chance.  
  
If not for the protection of the Spider Queen. But Zneirra had forsaken that evil goddess, and would never follow her again.  
  
The elf said something angrily in a language she didn't know. Zneirra whispered a quick spell of tongues.  
  
"-doing here in Mirkwood?"  
  
"Mirkwood?" Zneirra asked, in what was her own language to her ears but would sound as the elf's own language to him. "Is that where I am?"  
  
He looked at her curiously. "Of course. Where did you think you were?"  
  
"I don't know," whispered Zneirra. "I came from another world- my name is Zneirra Tal'Abluth- who are you?"  
  
"Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Mirkwood."  
  
"And you don't hate me?"  
  
"Why should I?"  
  
Zneirra fainted from sheer shock, not noticing as Legolas caught her in his arms.  
  
-----  
  
"There, you see," said Morgoth, looking up at Varda. "The Elves of Middle-earth have no hatred of dark-skinned elves, since they never met any."  
  
Varda wasn't paying attention to him, instead swatting something out of her hair. When she had finished swatting it, she held it out to him in perplexity. Morgoth stared, then shrugged. "It's a smashed spider. So what?"  
  
"There are few spiders in Valinor," said Varda. "Vairë doesn't like the competition. Where did this one come from?"  
  
"I don't know," said Morgoth, not caring that he really did whine now. "Let me finish the story!"  
  
Varda sighed and lowered her head onto her hands. "Fine."  
  
Beneath them, the floor rumbled again.  
  
-----  
  
Legolas gazed on the woman in his arms, and felt nothing but awe. True, she was not like any elf-maiden he had ever beheld, being shorter and far darker of skin, but she was slender and graceful, and the shining blue eyes were the mirrors of his own.  
  
The mirrors of his own...  
  
Legolas stiffened, gaping at the unconscious Zneirra. Could it be true? Could this strange maiden from another world be his One, his soulmate he would spend the rest of his eternal existence with?  
  
-----  
  
"Morgoth..." Varda growled, swatting at another spider.  
  
"It's not that big a change to the world," Morgoth argued, swatting at a spider on his own shoulder. _Stupid things. Probably a reminder from Ungoliant_. "Elves are monogamous anyway."  
  
"Not to soulmates."  
  
Morgoth shrugged. "You said you'd let me win this one."  
  
Varda sighed and settled back.  
  
-----  
  
Zneirra woke to find herself in a comfortable bedchamber, and when she turned her head, Prince Legolas sat not far away. She smiled weakly at him, and then gazed around the room.  
  
"Where are we?"  
  
"In my father's palace beneath the earth," said Legolas. "I know that you want sunshine and open air, but I thought you should also have rest, and in Mirkwood, this is the safest place."  
  
"No, this is fine," said Zneirra, and closed her eyes shyly. She was somewhat afraid of what she saw whenever she met the Prince's gaze.  
  
-----  
  
The floor shook once more, and Morgoth looked up, ready to whine at Varda again. But she was standing back, eyes locked on a widening crack just extending beyond the gaming table.  
  
A head popped out of it, the head of a beautiful drow woman that looked as if it should be smiling. She wasn't, though, and the rest of the body that climbed out of the crack, that of a giant spider, was tapping its eight legs on the floor as if angry as well.  
  
"Mine," said the drow head.   
  
"What?" Morgoth asked, as best as he could through his gape.  
  
"Mine," said the figure. "The drow are _mine_. Not yours, not the property of anyone who wants to take them from the Realms. _Mine_."  
  
"And who are you?" Varda asked, too politely, Morgoth felt, in the face of a giant threatening spider-creature.  
  
"Lloth," said the figure. "Some call me Lolth. But I am the Spider Queen, goddess of the drow elves, and I say they are _mine_." She turned her body, legs clicking, until she faced Morgoth. "You took one without my permission."  
  
"But she's a Sue!" Morgoth protested. "Surely you don't want her in your own world to wreak havoc." He had to fight to keep from shrinking backwards. Memories of Ungoliant were strong at the moment.  
  
"I am the Goddess of Chaos, you idiot!" Lloth shrieked. "Of _course_ I would want her in my world to wreak havoc. But she's not a good havoc-wreaker. She's a milksop."  
  
"Is there anything that would content you for the loss of one of your own?" Varda asked, while Morgoth shook.  
  
"It's already done," said Lloth, and waved a leg at the gaming table.  
  
-----  
  
Zneirra was sleeping alone that night when the walls burst open and drow flooded into the room. She woke and tried to shriek, but they had already shot her full of a slow-acting poison that froze her voice and muscles.  
  
She lay helpless while her mother lit the brazier and called to Lloth to witness the sacrifice. She lay motionless while her mother, clad in dark robes like spidersilk, approached her and readied the sacrificial dagger with the spider on the hilt. And she lived long enough to see her heart beating on the end of the dagger in the moment before she died.  
  
-----  
  
"You can't just-" Morgoth began.  
  
"Yes, I can," Lloth snapped. "You did, just. And the palace was underground. Where one whining, puling would-be drow went, my chosen can follow." She turned until she faced Varda. "You look familiar. Have we met?"  
  
"Varda, I have..."  
  
Vairë's voice faded into silence as she came towards the gaming table, dragging a tapestry along behind her. For a moment, she and Lloth stared at each other. Then they both drew voice and began to shriek at once.  
  
"Evil spider-bitch-"  
  
"Thought she could match me in weaving-"  
  
"Queen of the weavers, my ass-"  
  
"Abyss looks better than those tireless Timeless Halls-"  
  
"Can't even keep her mate-"  
  
"At least I bite the head off mine properly when the mating is done-"  
  
"_Enough_!" said Varda loudly, and that managed to calm them. Morgoth lifted his head cautiously above the table.  
  
"Vairë," said Varda, in a voice that threatened havoc if Vairë didn't obey her, "did you bring the tapestry that shows where Maedhros cast the Silmaril?"  
  
Vairë, glaring all the while, held out the tapestry. Varda picked it up and looked it over, while Morgoth turned his head away. Vairë's tapestries always made him slightly seasick with their swirling colors.  
  
"There seems to be a part of this torn out," said Varda, after a moment. "And it seems to be the part that would have showed the location of the fiery chasm."  
  
"Yes," said Vairë, who was making obscene gestures at Lloth. Lloth was making obscene gestures back, and Morgoth thought she was getting the better of it, since she had eight legs to make them with.  
  
"And what do you have to say to that?" Varda asked.  
  
"Oops," said Vairë.  
  
"Vairë, you know-"  
  
"I know that I don't want Fëanor in my halls again!" shrieked Vairë. "He's always criticizing my weaving!"  
  
"He is?" Lloth asked in interest.  
  
"Yes!" Vairë clutched her tapestry to herself. "And laughing at me! The impudent Elf!"  
  
"Impudent Elf," said Lloth.  
  
"My enemy," Morgoth added, just because he thought Vairë was getting more than her fair share of attention.  
  
Lloth looked at him. "Really."  
  
"Yes, and we are trying to recapture him," said Varda, "so could you go back to your own Realms? Sorry to be an inconvenience."  
  
Lloth chuckled. "Oh, I will be far more than that to you. This Fëanor sounds like someone I can appreciate. I think I will find him and offer him my assistance."  
  
She opened a crack in the ground and scuttled into it, popped her head up long enough to say, "Oh, and I think I will take Shelob with me, since no one's using her at the moment," and slammed the stone shut behind her.  
  
Vairë sniffed. "Good riddance."  
  
Varda drew breath to say something. Morgoth never knew what it would have been, because alarms exploded again, two different sets of them.  
  
"What do those mean?" he almost shrieked, since everything was treading very hard on his nerves.  
  
"Fëanor has the Silmaril from the fire," said Varda.  
  
"And someone else has broken out of Mandos," said Vairë. "Eru damn it, it's getting like a sieve in there." She ran towards the Timeless Halls.  
  
Morgoth closed his eyes. He should never have come out of the Void, boredom or not.  
  
  
  
Middle-earth does not equal Forgotten Realms, either. Silly crossover authors.


	25. Raistlia Removed

A/N: The last day of Crossover Sues Week. The Language-Mangling Sues Week is next, including...*drumroll*...the Japanese fangirl Sue.  
  
I had a couple requests for crossovers from different canons, but unfortunately, I wasn't familiar with the series in question, so I didn't feel able to do them. However, hopefully this last will be suitably horrifying.  
  
  
Don't own the Tolkien characters, or the DragonLance characters; they're copyright Tolkien and Wizards of the Coast respectively.  
  
The Game of the Gods, 25  
  
"It's confirmed?"  
  
"Yes, Morgoth. I'm sorry." Varda looked mildly scandalized to hear the words coming out of her own mouth.  
  
Morgoth wasn't scandalized at all. To him, that Finwë had indeed escaped from Mandos- to quote Vairë, "holding your diary and cackling like Saruman"- was something be very, very sorry about.  
  
"I don't see why, in this troubled time, I should have to assist you in hauling the gaming table around," he said, trying to play for sympathy.  
  
"Stuff it, Morgoth," Varda growled. "We're putting this here so that we can guard you _and_ keep an eye on the one remaining Silmaril at the same time." She dragged the table the final few feet into place, at the foot of the stair leading towards Eärendil's domain, and set it down with a loud sigh. "Now. Ulmo is being tiresome, since he thinks guarding you is the easier duty, and insisting I take my turn watching out for Fëanor. So we have someone else to play you instead."  
  
"_Not_ anyone Fëanorian," said Morgoth. "Because I refuse."  
  
"I don't know how long you would live, if you refused a Fëanorian without any of us around," said Varda, and smiled a little.  
  
"What?" Morgoth shot out of his chair. "You- you're- you're sympathizing with them!"  
  
Varda wiped the smile off her face. "Am not."  
  
"You smiled!"  
  
"Did not," said Varda, and hastily turned as an Elf walked towards them, apparently crowned with light. Morgoth squinted. "Ah, there you are, Glorfindel. The table's all ready, and I assure you-" she gave Morgoth a sharp look "-Morgoth will play nice."  
  
"I won't play nice," said Morgoth, fighting the urge to cover his eyes with his hand. "I'll cheat."  
  
"For you, warning us of that is playing nice," said Varda, and nodded once more to both of them. "I have to get to guard duty before Ulmo starts hinting that I should put stars underwater, if I have that much time. Excuse me." She hurried away.  
  
Morgoth sat down on his side of the table. Glorfindel sat on the other side, still shining steadily.  
  
Morgoth got tired of squinting very quickly. "Dim the hair, will you?" he snapped.  
  
"Sorry." Glorfindel made what seemed to be a complicated motion with his hands, and the light vanished under a hood. He gazed at Morgoth with wide, innocent eyes. "I've been told that people admired it."  
  
"I have no reason to admire you," said Morgoth.  
  
Glorfindel blinked. "Really?"  
  
"Really. You've opposed me and mine all along. And you killed my Sue," Morgoth added, remembering his fairy Ringwraith. "I don't like you."  
  
Glorfindel just sat there staring at him, an expression of astonishment and hurt on his face.  
  
"Let's play," said Morgoth, and set his Sue free, trying to ignore the feeling that his back was exposed to Fëanor. The problem was that everywhere was exposed to Fëanor, in some way.  
  
-------  
  
"Gandalf has strayed from the path of true wizardry. Your task is to find him and bring him back."  
  
Raistlia raised her eyes to Dalamar's face and smiled slightly. "I understand."  
  
Dalamar flinched and looked away. The girl's bright golden eyes, and shimmering silver hair, reminded him too much of his master, Raistlin, who had left five holes in his chest that still bled. It wasn't surprising, of course, since she was Raistlia, the daughter of Raistlin and Princess Laurana of Qualinesti, and the most powerful mage ever to live. She had passed the Test of High Sorcery at seven-  
  
-----  
  
"And I blazed to hold the Ringwraiths back," said Glorfindel. "_And_ defeated a Balrog. Why are you concentrating on her, and not me?"  
  
Morgoth glared at him. "Why is it so important to you that I like you? Why does it matter?"  
  
"There's _no one_ who doesn't like me," said Glorfindel, in a voice of injured pride.  
  
"There are at least two," said Morgoth. "I don't imagine that Sauron is too fond of you either. Sauron?"  
  
There was silence from under the table. Morgoth looked down, wondering if Sauron had been left behind when they moved the table.  
  
"Sauron and I had a little reconciliation," said Glorfindel, voice smug. Morgoth looked up to see him trying out a winsome smile. "No one can ever really hate me."  
  
"You sound like Maedhros," Morgoth murmured before he could stop himself.  
  
Glorfindel blinked. "Maedhros? No, that crazy bastard thinks everyone's in love with him. I just know that everyone likes and admires me. It's different." He leaned close in and lowered his voice. "Besides, between you and me, half the people Maedhros thinks are in love with him really loathe him. His is a delusion. Mine is real."  
  
"Are we playing, or not?" Morgoth asked pointedly, shoving his Sue forward again.  
  
Glorfindel studied the Sue, and sniffed. "How can she be of elvish blood? Her hair isn't even shining properly."  
  
"She's half-elven."  
  
"Still-"  
  
"Shut up," said Morgoth, and took great satisfaction in the shocked look on Glorfindel's face before he plunged back into the game.  
  
-----  
  
She had passed the Test of High Sorcery at seven, and was now being sent to retrieve Gandalf the Grey, who had strayed from the path of the true wizards. He would not wear black, red, or white robes, but wore grey ones, and insisted on deceiving the poor people of the neighboring continent of Middle-earth into believing he was some kind of savior.  
  
Raistlia had been raised in full respect for the true traditions of wizards. She would bring him back.  
  
Raistlia waited, but Dalamar didn't seem inclined to say any more. She rose, bowed to him, and then turned and walked out through the Forest of Wayreth. The trees that threatened everyone else bowed to her, and the unicorn she would ride to Middle-earth came dancing out to greet her.  
  
"Come, Flowervale," Raistlia told her, mounting her back. "We should not lose time. Those poor people of Middle-earth!"  
  
The unicorn tossed her head, snorted, and began to run, heading away in the direction of the other continent.  
  
-----  
  
"What is it with you and unicorns?" Glorfindel sounded sulky.  
  
Morgoth looked up with a smirk, thinking he had found the perfect taunt. "I find them lovely, unlike you."  
  
Glorfindel looked as if the insult had stricken him to the heart. He opened his mouth, closed it, and then turned his head away and closed his eyes. His shoulders shook with the sound of soft sobbing.  
  
Morgoth laughed and turned back to the game, certain it would work this time.  
  
-----  
  
Flowervale had a long gallop, and at times they had to ride on ships that took them west across the sea. But at last they saw the Grey Havens before them, and Raistlia relaxed as she saw the western shores of Middle-earth looming.  
  
-----  
  
"Wait."  
  
Morgoth looked up with a sigh. "Yes, O Ugly One?"  
  
Glorfindel's lower lip trembled, but he said, "If she's sailing west from this continent, how can she come to the western shores of Middle-earth?"  
  
"She just _can_," said Morgoth. "By the way, that hairstyle makes you look like an Orc."  
  
Glorfindel buried his head in his hands.  
  
-----  
  
After receiving the greetings of Círdan, Raistlia rode to the House of Elrond. She passed through the elvish magic with confidence. Her mother had been an elf, after all, and her father the most powerful mage in the world. The magical guardians that were smart recognized and bowed to her, and the others fled screaming when Raistlia gave them a single glance from her golden eyes with the hourglass pupils that she had inherited from her father.  
  
Raistlia hadn't inherited his ability to see everything dying all around him, but she could see corruption and evil, and she saw it in Gandalf the Grey, who stood in front of the Council of Elrond and spun lying tales.  
  
At the moment, he was saying something about Saruman holding him prisoner and escaping on the back of an eagle.  
  
"That is a lie."  
  
Everyone turned and gaped at Raistlia as she stepped forth from the bushes, and gaped further when Flowervale followed her. The unicorn nickered and tossed her horn, flashing light back at everyone.  
  
Elrond found his voice first. "How can you say that Gandalf the Grey is a liar?"  
  
Raistlia gave him an imperious glance, and was glad to see him fall backward. She had been worried somewhat that the imperious Elflord would have the manners of the elves of Krynn towards a half-elf, which was to say, none at all.  
  
-----  
  
"But Elrond is Peredhil himself," said Glorfindel, who had looked up.  
  
Morgoth wavered between answering that and taunting Glorfindel. Taunting won. "There you are," he said, gesturing to the Glorfindel at the Council. "And you can't do anything to stop her. You don't even look as good as she does."  
  
Glorfindel said nothing.  
  
------  
  
"True wizards wear robes of only three colors," said Raistlia. "White for those in the service of Solinari and good. Red for those in the service of Lunitari and neutrality. Black for those in the service of Nuitari and evil. Saruman the White is a true wizard, one who has tried to counteract the lies of Gandalf the Grey. Gandalf strayed from the ways of our order long ago, and now he is trying to spread lies about his fellow wizards. I must take him back for trial."  
  
"Who are you?" Gandalf spluttered.  
  
Raistlia smiled. "The child of the most powerful mage in existence, old man."  
  
Gandalf chanted something quickly under his breath and shot a blast of fire at her. Raistlia whirled her own staff out of the air, where it always was when she wanted it, and brought it down to meet the blast of fire. It glowed sullenly for a moment with heat, but the flames died.  
  
"Do you see?" Raistlia asked calmly, advancing. "You cannot defeat me. You cannot defeat Saruman the White, and the Wise, either."  
  
The Council gaped at her. And Gandalf seemed to shrink before their eyes into a little, frightened old man.  
  
"Why should we believe you?" asked a voice behind her, and there came the sound of a sword being drawn.  
  
-----  
  
"What?" Morgoth said, glaring at the board. He looked at Glorfindel. The Elf's eyes were closed, the expression on his face intense.  
  
He was somehow controlling his secondary self at the Council, Morgoth thought, but he couldn't see how. Glorfindel couldn't be in two places at the same time, couldn't be two people, and yet he was.  
  
Before he could try to figure it out, Glorfindel shook back the hood from his hair, and Morgoth shrieked as the light blinded him again.  
  
-----  
  
Raistlia turned to find a golden-haired elf on his feet and facing her. She sighed.   
"Who are you?" she asked politely.  
  
"Glorfindel," said the elf. "And I have been beyond the sea, and have power over the Seen and Unseen."  
  
"Very nice," Raistlia drawled. "But why should I listen to you?"  
  
"Because you are talking nonsense," said Glorfindel. "There are no wizards such as you described in Middle-earth. There are no wizards of red robes or black robes. And Saruman the White has lately become Saruman of Many Colors, as Gandalf described to us, so even that part of your nonsense fails."  
  
"But he was lying!" said Raistlia furiously, unable to comprehend that someone didn't believe her. "I told you that."  
  
Glorfindel smiled coldly. "I have known Gandalf," he answered, "and I have never known him to lie. He has been a steadfast and faithful friend to those in need since he came to Middle-earth." His eyes narrowed. "Why should we trust you over him?"  
  
"Because-" Raistlia hesitated, her confidence draining from her. Why should they trust her, exactly? She was the daughter of the most powerful mage in Krynn, but she didn't know if that mattered, here in Middle-earth.  
  
But she knew that Gandalf couldn't be a real wizard, since he wore grey robes. She shook her head and looked up defiantly. "Because I am telling the truth."  
  
Glorfindel laughed. "Even about the three orders of wizardry, when we have none?"  
  
Raistlia shook her head, bewildered. They should simply have believed her without questioning. Why were they questioning?  
  
"Now," said Glorfindel, his eyes narrowing further. "Leave."  
  
Raistlia wouldn't just do that, though. "Dalamar sent me here," she said.  
  
"Who?" Glorfindel asked.  
  
"Saruman the White is good!" Raistlia insisted. "He must be."  
  
"She is on the side of Saruman," said Elrond. "No good can come of this. Glorfindel, remove her from the Council."  
  
"With pleasure, Lord Halfelven," said Glorfindel, and took Raistlia's arm.  
  
She tried to shake him off, and suddenly found herself impaled on his sword. She stared up at him in astonishment as she sank towards the floor, certain that his blade hadn't been in the right place to kill her.  
  
Glorfindel's voice faded away as she sank into darkness. "I don't know. I could have sworn she wasn't in the way. Careless of me..."  
  
-----  
  
Morgoth finally recovered his sight, though he knew his Sue was already dead, and so it didn't matter. He could still glare at Glorfindel, though, and say, "You're ugly. I always said so."  
  
Glorfindel lifted his head haughtily, so that Morgoth once again couldn't see his face through the blaze. His voice was smug, though. "I shouldn't have listened to you. I should have remembered what Nienna told me."  
  
"What Nienna told you?" Burning afterimages were taking over Morgoth's eyes.  
  
"That my inner beauty is as important as my outer beauty," said Glorfindel. "And you can't take my inner beauty from me. And you're just a meanie, anyway."  
  
He leaped to his feet. "That was good therapy for me," he remarked. "I think I'll tell Maglor. Nienna says that he needs to encounter other personalities." He strolled away, leaving Morgoth to rub furiously at his eyes.  
  
When he could see again, there was a box on the table, bearing the tengwar carving of an F.  
  
Morgoth backed away in dread. It was something from Fëanor, no doubt, and he wasn't going to open it.  
  
The box popped open on its own, though, and disclosed nothing but a note.   
  
_Thank you for providing such a sufficient distraction. I walked right past your table, and you never noticed me. Strange how they bother guarding the heights, isn't it, and think that a puffed-up pouter and a jail-crow of Mandos will guard the bottom way?  
  
Fëanor._  
  
Morgoth lifted his face in dread. Fëanor was somewhere above him, climbing, and would probably get the third Silmaril soon enough.  
  
Should he tell the Valar about it? The thought of Fëanor with all three Silmarils again was intimidating.  
  
On the other hand, the thought of facing Fëanor's wrath if he told...  
  
Morgoth slid lower in his seat.  
  
  
  
Wizardy in Middle-earth has nothing to do with how the D&D worlds understand it. I wish more people knew that.

  



	26. Kitsune Killed

A/N: Thank you again for the reviews!

Language-Mangling Sues Week, and the beginning of the end. The Fëanor plot will play out soon.   
  
But there's still a few more Sues to bash first.   
  
Including this one. Thanks to the LJ Marysues community for helping me with the horrible fangirl Japanese.  
  
The Game of the Gods, 26  
  
"It's all right, Maglor," someone was saying soothingly. "I know that you need a lot of healing, but I'll be right here at your side. Remember that Morgoth cannot bruise the inner you."   
  
Morgoth closed his eyes and groaned. He recognized the words all too well; he would have known them even without the voice. Nienna was coming, and by the sound of it, she was talking to Maglor. She had come and talked at Morgoth often enough when he was bound in Angainor, all the while exhorting him to "learn pity and give up his evil." Morgoth hadn't known what she meant then, and he still didn't.   
  
He opened his eyes to find out that he was right. Nienna herded Maglor forward and hovered beside him as he sat in the other chair. Then she took his hand and pressed it affectionately. "Do you need anything, Maglor? Perhaps a draught of wine before we begin?"   
  
Maglor shook his head. His eyes were clouded, and he looked haggard, but Morgoth didn't really think that was the result of their last round.   
  
"How long has she been talking at you?" he asked Maglor, taking the moment when Nienna had turned aside to think up some new treatment for her patient to lean forward and talk to the Elf.   
  
Maglor groaned. "I don't know, but it feels like a Valian Year." He looked helplessly at Morgoth. "I wouldn't mind some help, but she just never believes that I'm feeling better, no matter what I say. Is there any way to get her to stop?"   
  
Nienna turned back before Morgoth could do more than shake his head. Maglor leaned back in his seat and groaned. Nienna looked at him, then glared at Morgoth. "Did he do something to hurt you, Mag?"   
  
Maglor winced, hard, at the nickname. "No, Nienna," he said.   
  
Nienna stared a moment longer at Morgoth, then sniffed. "Now," she said. "Glori-"   
  
"Glori?" Morgoth couldn't help interrupting, wishing he'd known the Elf's nickname when he was playing with Glorfindel. On the other hand, it probably would have made him even more conceited if Morgoth had called him that.   
  
"Yes," said Nienna firmly. "Glori. I know that I don't let my patients stand long on the outside sphere of their beings. They need to learn to relate to their inner children, and nicknames are a perfect way to do it."   
  
Morgoth busied himself with sorting through the box of Sues, glad that Nienna hadn't been on that kick when he was a prisoner in Mandos.   
  
"Glori said that this was helpful for him, because you tried to attack his weaknesses, and found that he has grown too strong for that," said Nienna sternly. "The same thing should be done for Maglor. He was alone for far too long, and he still has a tendency to be introverted. He should encounter other personalities. Give us the most exuberant Sue you have."   
  
Maglor groaned.   
  
Morgoth hesitated, looking at the Elf. No, he couldn't really feel pity anymore, but he could feel a facsimile of it. "That Sue is dangerous in many ways. Are you sure that you want her?"   
  
"Yes," said Nienna, still with that firmness that no one would really dare contradict. Nienna was gentle and pitying most of the time. They wanted to keep her that way.   
  
Morgoth sighed, dug out a blue-haired piece, and set her in the middle of the board.   
  
"What is that?" Maglor asked, leaning close to the board.   
  
"Don't-" Morgoth started to say.   
  
Maglor winced and sat back as the Sue's voice exploded out of the board.   
  
------   
  
"_SUGOI!!!!!!_"  
  
Kitsune spun around and around, happy to be where she was. She knew she was in Rivendell, although how she had gotten there she didn't know. One moment she was dreaming and fantasizing about Middle-earth, the next she was torn away from her bedroom and landed here.  
  
She looked like she'd always wanted to, too, she noticed, catching sight of herself in the river that ran nearby. Blue hair, and bright purple eyes. She smiled and would have gone on admiring her reflection if she hadn't been distracted by a loud yowl.  
  
Her cat, Nekonekoneko, had evidently been caught in whatever magic had pulled her along to Middle-earth, and now had blue fur. Kitsune squealed. "_KAWAIIIII!!!!!1!_"  
  
Nekonekoneko howled in misery and tried to run away, but Kitsune scooped him up and ran merrily towards Rivendell. It was going to be such fun to meet all the Elves, and-  
  
Legolas! Was that Legolas?  
  
"_Bishie!!!!_"  
  
Legolas winced and grabbed his ears. Kitsune had to admit he didn't look exactly like she'd imagined him- more muscular, less ethereal- but that didn't stop her from jumping on him and hugging him, cat and all. Nekonekoneko screamed something and tried to claw her stomach off. Kitsune grinned into Legolas and just held tighter. Nekonekoneko was so _kawaii_ when he did something like that!  
  
"Konnichiwa, Leggy-chan," she said happily, ignoring the fact that the struggling Elf was trying to get away from her. "Watashi wa Kitsune! Oh, you are so _genki_!" She hugged him again.  
  
She didn't quite know how he managed, but at last he threw her off and stood panting and glaring at her. "Never have I heard such a loud voice in all my days among the trees of Mirkwood," he said.  
  
Kitsune beamed. "Arigatou!" Legolas stared at her, and she said, "That means thank you. And genki means cute, which you _are_, Leggy-chan!" She tried to hug him again.  
  
"My name," said Legolas, "is _not_ Leggy-chan."  
  
-----  
  
"Oh, Eru, make her stop."  
  
Morgoth glanced up smugly. He did feel sorry for Maglor, but not enough to call the Sue off when it appeared that he was winning for the very first time. The Elf had his head on the table, panting.  
  
"Eru helps those who help themselves," said Nienna, leaning over him. "It's good for you to encounter an extrovert."  
  
"Not one like this," Maglor said, and then winced as another wail from the table apparently nearly shattered his eardrums. Morgoth grinned.  
  
------  
  
"_HAI!!!!!_"  
  
Kitsune punched the air and did a little dance, sending Nekonekoneko fleeing under the bed. Lord Elrond had given her a room in the Last Homely House and invited her to the Council, and all she'd had to do was promise to stay in her room for a little while!  
  
_Well_, Kitsune admitted as she sat down on the bed, _he didn't put it quite like that. "Make the screaming stop" was more along the general lines_.  
  
But it didn't mean he didn't like her- although he wasn't quite a bishie, either. And Kitsune had seen someone she was sure was Aragorn, and been a little surprised. Wasn't he supposed to be hulkier than he was, if he was Legolas's seme, as he was in so many fanfics?  
  
------  
  
"I promise, I promise!"  
  
Morgoth looked up. Maglor had his hands over his ears and was looking pleadingly at Nienna.  
  
"Anyone you want," Maglor said. "I'll listen to Curufin natter on about how he was wronged. I'll spend an hour with Glorfindel in front of a mirror. I'll even, the V- Eru forbid, listen to your precious Olórin talk again about how much he helped Middle-earth. Just not this, I beg of you."  
  
Nienna hesitated, looking tempted. Morgoth frowned. He didn't want to win just because his opponent left. He wanted to deafen Maglor with Kitsune's screaming so much that he would forget to pay attention to what was happening in the game.  
  
"Nienna," he said gently.  
  
Nienna looked over at him alertly. She always thought he was about to make some confession of his wrongs when he used that voice. Morgoth didn't know why.  
  
"I don't think you should allow this," said Morgoth. "Why should you? Maglor's only running from his problems again." He had a notion he could only conceive of as inspired, and added, "He's spent enough time doing that along the shores of Middle-earth. He needs to face them."  
  
Nienna nodded. "Yes, yes, of course you're right. You need to encounter extroverts, Mag."  
  
Maglor closed his eyes and muttered something about Maedhros in a fury being easier than this. Morgoth merrily deployed his Sue again.  
  
------  
  
Kitsune stared around the Council. It seemed as though they were all getting ready to leave her behind, and just take the Ring to Mordor without her.  
  
"Ano..."  
  
Everyone grabbed their ears and glanced at her. Kitsune was charmed. It was very kawaii as a custom, though it had never been mentioned in the books.  
  
"I want to go with you, kudasai," she said, and sighed at their blank looks. Everyone knew Japanese, right? "Please, Elrond-sama."  
  
"Why?" Elrond asked warily.  
  
"I can cheer them up!" said Kitsune.   
  
Gimli muttered something to Legolas. Kitsune frowned at him. She didn't like him because he wasn't genki, and she was sure she had just heard him say something about "screaming will make our enemies run in terror."  
  
Legolas sighed and rose to his feet. "I ask that she come, Lord Elrond."  
  
"Leggy-chan!" Kitsune squealed, and rushed at him, covering him with kisses. "Ai shiteru!"  
  
"And dare I ask what that means?" Legolas asked, prying her away from him again.  
  
"I love you!"  
  
Legolas stared at her. "Really?" he asked after a moment.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Then _don't_ call me Leggy-chan."  
  
-----  
  
Morgoth glanced up, aware that Maglor was sitting with his hands over his own ears and his eyes closed.  
  
"What are you doing?" he asked.  
  
"Meditating," said Maglor firmly. "Nienna taught it to me as a way to ease pain."  
  
"Or ignore problems," said Morgoth. He looked at Nienna again, who was watching everything with that stern frown that never seemed to ease. "How is he going to learn to be whole if he employs avoidance mechanisms whenever a problem presents itself?"  
  
"You're right," said Nienna. "Come on, Mag." She tapped Maglor's shoulder.  
  
"It doesn't make _any sense_!" Maglor burst out, dropping his hands. "I can't understand those stupid words she uses, and the ones she does explain she could use some other word for, and she yells them so _loudly_-" Tears were running down his face.  
  
"This is part of learning to be strong," said Nienna, patting his hand.  
  
"I wandered on the shores of Middle-earth for thousands of years," said Maglor murderously. "I should think that's strong."  
  
"No, that's running away," Nienna informed him primly, and glanced at Morgoth. "You may continue."  
  
Morgoth did so, aware of a shadow on the edge of his vision and ignoring it. Probably just Maglor trying to distract him.  
  
------  
  
"_YAMETE!!!!!_"  
  
The Fellowship flinched, but slowed down for her. Kitsune nodded. Good. She couldn't walk as fast as they could, given that she was bundled up in warm clothes Elrond-sama had found for her to survive the snows of Caradass or whatever the mountain was called, and she was carrying a heavy pack and Nekonekoneko. The cat had bitten her twice and clawed her once, but Kitsune knew that only meant he loved her.  
  
Legolas dropped back beside her as they made their way past snow-covered rock walls. Kitsune wanted to call him Leggy-chan, but restrained herself.  
  
"Ai shiteru," she told him.  
  
Legolas winced. "Yes. Well. Do try to be careful, Kitsune."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because the mountain-"  
  
Ahead of her, Merry and Pippin rolled down a snowbank. Kitsune had seen them do that before, but she still wasn't used to it yet, and the word burst out of her before she could stop it.  
  
"_KAWAIII!!!!!_"  
  
Legolas cried out something in his own language, which Kitsune thought was very discourteous of him, and began to run. The hobbits he swept up without stopping, and continued running. Kitsune blinked after him.  
  
Nekonekoneko took the opportunity to bite her so hard that Kitsune cried out in pain and dropped him. "Dame!" she called, but he was already scooting back down the trail, ears flat to his head.  
  
That was when Kitsune heard the rumble, and looked up to see the snows of Caradass, or whatever the mountain was called, falling towards her, loosened by the sound of her voice.  
  
"Tasukete, Leggy-chan!" she called, certain he would save her.  
  
Nothing happened. The snow went on racing towards her.  
  
"Shimatta," Kitsune had time to say, before the snow settled on her and crushed her very thoroughly.  
  
-----  
  
Morgoth stared at the board for a moment, then lifted his eyes. "You were playing," he said, too in shock over Maglor's deception to say anything else.  
  
Maglor winked at him, then abruptly opened his eyes wide, turned to Nienna, and said, "I think I understand now!"  
  
"You do?" The Valië regarded him warily.  
  
Maglor nodded eagerly. "You see, I was stewing too much in the murk of my own past. The thing to be done is to let go of the negative and embrace the positive."  
  
"Yes," said Nienna, with one of the few smiles that Morgoth remembered seeing from her.  
  
"Move forward into the future, and not look back," Maglor continued.  
  
"Yes." Nienna rose to her feet.  
  
"And have good relationships, and not bad ones."  
  
"Oh, Maglor!" Nienna hugged him. "You don't need any more of my help."  
  
"Good," said Maglor. "Then I'm free to go?"  
  
"Oh, absolutely," said Nienna, who couldn't seem to stop beaming.  
  
"Good," said Maglor. "Hello, Father."  
  
Morgoth jumped back. Fëanor stood in front of him, holding a Silmaril cradled in a box of mithril. Morgoth leaned forward yearningly, then leaned back again as he realized that, Silmaril or not, this was still Fëanor.  
  
"Good effort on the last few rounds, Morgoth," Fëanor complimented him. "Better than you did facing me. Or than you ever will do facing me," he added.  
  
"Fëanor," said Nienna. "If anyone ever needed counseling, you do. Come with me back to Mandos, and we will attempt to cure you of your psychoses and neuroses."  
  
"No, thank you," said Fëanor. "Not as a prisoner, at least. Come on, Maglor. We have people to get out of Mandos."  
  
"And things to discuss," added another voice, and Nerdanel popped around the bottom of the stair that led- that _had_ led to Eärendil and the Silmaril. "Your father and I have reconciled our differences, Maglor, at least a little. But we need to make sure we continue having the chance to reconcile them."  
  
"What are you doing?" Morgoth screamed at Fëanor.  
  
"Lots," said Fëanor happily, and began to run. Nerdanel and Maglor ran after him. Fëanor did pause long enough to toss over his shoulder, "And Father said your diary is fascinating reading, Morgoth. He made Námo laugh so hard with it that he walked right out of Mandos. I can't wait."  
  
He rushed away, and Morgoth put his head on the table and began to sob. A moment later, he felt a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Do you want to talk about it?" Nienna asked.  
  
  
  
My god, fangirl Japanese is annoying.


	27. A'mael Annihilated

A/N: Language-Mangling Sues Week rolls on. This may be the last actual Sue for this week, since I don't know if I'll be able to write Friday or not.   
  
  
I don't own the Tolkien characters, as usual. Also, the Grelvish language was developed and elaborated from Quenya and Sindarin by the Grey Company, and the bits of FR Elvish in here were developed by Wizards of the Coast. Any actual Tolkienien Elvish is probably accidental.  
  
The Game of the Gods, 27   
  
"You don't want to talk about it?"   
  
"No," said Morgoth busily, still digging in his box of Sues. Nienna insisted that she wanted a try at playing the game, too, which Morgoth thought was rather strange when she had just seen Fëanor run towards the west of Valinor. Surely she should want to go after him and prevent more escapes from Mandos.   
  
But Nienna seemed more intent on "helping" him, whatever that meant, and so Morgoth was still sitting where he had been and looking for another Sue.   
  
"It's hard, isn't it?"   
  
Morgoth glanced up, realizing too late what he had probably done by saying, "What do you mean?"   
  
"To be all alone," said Nienna. "The Dark Power of the world, Fëanor named you, but was he ever considering your feelings? No. I think not. You should have told him off for that. I will, very severely, the next time I see him."   
  
Morgoth felt nauseous for a moment, at the very thought of what Fëanor would say if he told him that. Then he shook his head. Either way, he thought, he was well past that. Fëanor had obviously dashed off in pursuit of a goal more important to him than taunting Morgoth, and would not be coming back.   
  
Which didn't mean there weren't others out there waiting to hurt him. There was Maedhros, and Morgoth was now convinced that that one was crazy enough to do anything. There was Finwë, and the deadly diary in his possession. Morgoth winced at the thought of Finwë reading that aloud.   
  
"Morgoth?"   
  
Morgoth came back to himself. Nienna was rising to her feet with a look of concern on her face. "You look tense," she said. "And you obviously weren't paying attention to what I was saying. Do you need a shoulder rub?"   
  
Morgoth shuddered in spite of himself, then cleared his throat. "No, thank you," he said. "I think we should play the game if we're playing it." He hesitated, and then curiosity overcame him. "Are you sure you want to do this?"   
  
"Of course," said Nienna. "You're just as important as anyone else, and you deserve just as much help."   
  
"But Fëanor-"   
  
"Oh, I know what he's doing," said Nienna comfortably.   
  
Morgoth blinked at her. Well, it wasn't impossible that she could have known Fëanor when he was still in Mandos, he supposed. "You do?"   
  
Nienna nodded. "This is just his way of working out his abandonment issues. First his mother died and left him, and then he became estranged from his wife, and then, of course, death parted him from his father and his sons. It means that he feels he doesn't get enough attention-"   
  
Morgoth laughed, unable to help himself. Nienna frowned at him. "You are a fellow sufferer yourself, Mor. I would think that you'd feel more sympathetic."   
  
Morgoth hastily moved his Sue forward. "Here."   
  
"How typical is she?" Nienna asked. "I was busy trying to counsel Curufin once again when you played this before."   
  
"Why should it matter how typical she is?"   
  
"I want some insight into your mind."   
  
Morgoth sighed. "Pretty typical."   
  
"All right, then." Nienna nodded serenely.   
  
Morgoth inched the Sue cautiously forward. This wasn't one he would have tried getting away with were he playing Varda, since she would have objected at once, but he thought Nienna felt sorry enough for him to give him a break.   
  
------   
  
"_Amin mela lle..._"  
  
Those were the words that A'mael sighed again and again to herself, as she rode towards Ithilien to join the Prince she had loved from childhood. Of course, she couldn't marry him, since she was only a servant and he was the Prince; he had to marry a Princess. But she could go to Ithilien and gaze with longing and lovesick eyes on Prince Legolas, and that would have to content her.  
  
"_Amin mella lle_" was the refrain that haunted all her dreams. "I love you" she dreamed of saying to Legolas Greenleaf, and seeing his blue eyes fill with love as he smiled back.  
  
Sometimes A'mael held out hope in the prophecy of her name. She was called "beloved," after all. That meant she would be so.  
  
But would Legolas ever say, "_Amin mela lle_" back to her? Would he ever?  
  
-----  
  
"A moment."  
  
Morgoth glanced up, cheer somewhat restored by Nienna frowning at the Sue. She was still going to let him get away with this, he thought, but she would have some distress about it first. Good. Morgoth needed something to remind him that he was supposed to be the dark power of the world at the moment.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I thought Legolas knew Sindarin and Silvan," said Nienna.  
  
"I would assume that he does."  
  
"Then what is that?"  
  
"Elvish."  
  
Nienna twisted her head around and squinted at the phrase as if to see if it would make more sense. Then she said, "No, it's not."  
  
Morgoth grinned. "It's like Elvish, though, and surely near enough to be called so. After all, isn't it easier than cudgeling your brains trying to learn Quenya and Sindarin?"  
  
"They're not hard languages," said Nienna plaintively. "Valarin is tough for Elves, of course, but Elvish is not." She paused. "A'mael-" a twist of her lip "-is an Elf, I presume?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Then she should know her own language."  
  
Morgoth clucked his tongue. "She _is_ a Sue, Nienna."  
  
Nienna looked unconvinced.  
  
"With abandonment issues," Morgoth added, and continued the story.  
  
-----  
  
A'mael didn't remember her mother or father. She had been found sobbing softly in the woods one morning, with a strange golden pendant around her neck. Or at least A'mael's foster mother had told her that much, but when A'mael looked at the pendant, she saw only a small and crude carving of wood. There was nothing to indicate that she was special, though she would have liked to believe so- especially because she had red hair and green eyes, unlike any other Elf.  
  
-----  
  
"Not true," said Nienna, who was trying to look stern, and failing.  
  
"Yes, but they don't know about Maedhros and Nerdanel and the twins," said Morgoth.  
  
"How can they not know?" Nienna asked.  
  
"She's really lonely, Nienna."  
  
Nienna looked tempted to continue harassing him about the Sue, but then sighed and said, "Awww."  
  
Morgoth smirked and continued reciting.  
  
-----  
  
But, of course, A'mael was considered ugly among the Sy'Tel'Quessir, the forest Elves-  
  
-----  
  
"I _know_ those don't exist," said Nienna hotly.  
  
"It's really hard to learn Quenya and Sindarin," said Morgoth. "Especially for someone who was abandoned at an early age, and made to grow up feeling unloved and unwanted."  
  
Nienna watched him in silence for a moment. Then she said, "What about someone who started out with high prospects, and then crashed in ruin because of the malice of one person?"  
  
"Yes, it is hard," Morgoth agreed.  
  
Nienna's eyes narrowed. "I was _talking_ about Fëanor."  
  
Morgoth stiffened. "That was his own fault as much as mine," he said defensively. "Besides, you said he had abandonment issues to work out."  
  
Nienna's eyes narrowed further, but she said nothing.  
  
Morgoth hurried on with his story.  
  
-----  
  
And she would never have a chance of winning Prince Legolas's heart.  
  
"_Amin mela lle, dan n'lle mela amin_," A'mael whispered, and kicked her horse into a gallop.  
  
-----  
  
"And what was _that_?"  
  
"I love you, but you do not love me," said Morgoth expertly.  
  
Nienna closed her eyes. Then she said, "I am trying to understand, but this is as unintelligible as Fëanor telling me in Mandos that he preferred to talk to Vairë about her weaving because 'at least she was entertaining.'"  
  
Morgoth kept his face innocent. "She has abandonment issues."  
  
"But she was raised in Mirkwood?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Like Legolas?"  
  
"As a servant of the Court, and not a Princess, but yes."  
  
"Elves don't have servants."  
  
"They might."  
  
Nienna sighed.  
  
------  
  
A'mael listened with tears in her eyes as Legolas bid farewell to the friend, a dwarf, who had come to visit him.   
  
"Namaaarie," he was currently saying. "Farewell."  
  
-----  
  
"That's a misspelled Quenya word," said Nienna. "What's it doing there?"  
  
She sounded more resigned than anything else, Morgoth noted. He grinned. "Serving a purpose."  
  
"To make me hate your Sue?" Nienna snapped.  
  
"You don't hate anybody," said Morgoth. "Remember? Even Fëanor is just misunderstood. You should have no trouble liking A'mael."  
  
"She's not going to sing, is she?" Nienna asked.   
  
Morgoth smiled. "Maybe."  
  
------  
  
"A'mael! _Cormamin lindua ele lle_!" Legolas called, as he came up to her. "My heart sings to see thee."  
  
A'mael blushed furiously. She hadn't ever dreamed of a greeting like this. "Prince," she said, bowing her head. And then, unexpectedly, the word she had never meant to speak to him came out. "_Melamine_." My love.  
  
-----  
  
"Plastic?" Nienna asked.  
  
Morgoth glanced at her. "What are you on about?"  
  
"She's calling him plastic?"  
  
"She's calling him 'my love.'"  
  
Nienna just shook her head.  
  
-----  
  
A'mael stood with her eyes down, trembling. _What have I done_? she thought. _He will kill me. He cannot love a servant!_  
  
But Legolas's hand came down and touched her chin, and then he lifted her face so that he could look into her eyes.  
  
"I meant what I said," he whispered. "_Melamine, amin mela lle_." And he kissed her.  
  
-----  
  
"Do you know how hard it is to take your Sue seriously when she butchers Elvish like that?" Nienna asked.  
  
"You're not going to do anything to stop her, though," said Morgoth comfortably. "Or you would have by now. She can learn she's a Princess and can marry Legolas easily enough."  
  
Nienna tilted her head. "Exactly like Legolas, you said."  
  
"Except for class distinctions-"  
  
"The minor matter of class distinctions that don't exist, yes."  
  
Morgoth rolled his eyes. "There has to be that kind of thing, or there's no dramatic tension to the story."  
  
Nienna glanced at the Sue, eyebrows raised. "There's dramatic tension here? I really hadn't noticed."  
  
-----  
  
A'mael wandered in delight beside Anduin, dazed and happy. Legolas had kissed her and told her he loved her-  
  
-----  
  
"Called her plastic-"  
  
"Shhhh!"  
  
-----  
  
-and now there was only the minor matter of King Thraindul to worry about.  
  
-----  
  
Nienna winced. "Must you?"  
  
"Do you really think she could spell his name right?"  
  
-----  
  
But they would overcome that. A'mael was certain of it. All they needed was love.  
  
-----  
  
"She _is_ stupid, then," said Nienna.  
  
Morgoth shrugged. "If you want to think of her that way. But she still has Legolas."  
  
-----  
  
A'mael was smiling to herself when she heard a sudden sweetly harsh sound, and looked up.  
  
A white bird flew above the river, feathers fired by the light of the setting sun. As A'mael watched, it opened its beak and cried again.  
  
A gull. It was a gull.  
  
And the sea-longing grabbed hold of her so powerfully that A'mael knew she could not deny it.  
  
Dreamily, she walked forward, following the gull down Anduin. She would go to Valinor. She would go to the west. She would go across all the waters-  
  
Or she might have, if she hadn't walked dreamily into Anduin, and just kept walking until she drowned.  
  
-----  
  
Morgoth sulked.  
  
"Oh, come on, Mor," said Nienna, trying and completely failing to contain her victorious smile. "You said yourself that she was stupid. Imagine growing up in Mirkwood and not knowing her language or the name of her King! She would indeed try to walk into the West without building a ship."  
  
"You're no fun to play with anymore," said Morgoth.  
  
Nienna opened her mouth to reply, and turned around as someone exclaimed sharply behind her, "_There_ you are! What did you think you were doing?"  
  
Yavanna ran towards them, her face a picture of distress. Nienna glanced at her sideways. "We were playing this game."  
  
"There's no time for it!" said Yavanna. "I've been looking everywhere for you." For a moment, her gaze went to Morgoth, and he shifted uneasily as he saw there was pity in it. "We have a chance to recapture at least one of the escapees from Mandos, and I want you on the west of him. I don't trust Aulë not to just let him go," she added, frowning. "He's been strange lately. I'm sure that he was the one who gave Fëanor access to that forge."  
  
"Which one are we talking about?" Nienna asked, rising to her feet.  
  
Again, that sideways gaze, and then Yavanna said, "Finwë."  
  
Morgoth stood up. "Does he have the diary?" he demanded.  
  
Yavanna said, "Um, well, yes."  
  
"And is he going to read it?"  
  
"He might have already read the first few pages-"  
  
Morgoth began to run. Yavanna was beside him in a few minutes, giving him that same doubtful look. Of course, she had never really trusted him since he destroyed her Trees.  
  
"You _want_ to hear this?" she asked.  
  
"Of course not," said Morgoth. "I want to stop him. You can trust me even above Nienna, who thinks Fëanor deserves some sympathy. I have a stake in putting them all back in Mandos where they belong."  
  
Yavanna clucked her tongue. "And exactly how are you going to do that?"  
  
Morgoth held up the box of Sues.  
  
Yavanna hesitated. "We should not turn to evil to stop evil," she said.  
  
"Yes, you shouldn't," said Morgoth. "But you're you, and on the side of good. I'm evil, and perfectly allowed to do so."  
  
Yavanna brightened. "That does make perfect sense. Come along."  
  
Morgoth ran as hard as he could to the West, focusing his thoughts on stopping Finwë. They _would_ stop him and get the diary away from him, and then everything would be back to normal.  
  
Except that Fëanor would still be out there somewhere, with the Silmarils...  
  
Morgoth whimpered a little.  
  
"Stop that," Nienna scolded from the other side. "Accentuate the positive."  
  
  
  
So Morgoth is on the side of the angels.  
  
Except not really, I suppose.

  



	28. Vanimelda Vanquished, Morwen Mowed Down

A/N: As always, thank you for the reviews!

Second-to-last week of this, probably. I will miss it when it ends...   
  
There. That's enough thinking about that.   
  
Here we go.   
  
  
As usual, don't own the Tolkien characters, and the Sue Morwen in here is stealing a canonical name.   
  
The Game of the Gods, 28.   
  
"There he is."   
  
Morgoth lifted his head apprehensively. Finwë was perched on a ridge above them, clutching something that Morgoth would have known was his diary even if he hadn't received the threat from Finwë himself. There was just something about narrative inevitability and all the evil he had suffered.   
  
"I want you on the west of him, Nienna," Yavanna went on.   
  
Nienna sighed and shook her head. "If Finwë had just been content to control his libido, then none of this might have happened," she murmured, and trotted off to the west.   
  
"What is she talking about?" Morgoth asked Yavanna, without taking his eyes off the Elf. "Fëanor would still have existed, and that was the great evil."   
  
"I know," said Yavanna, herding him towards the front of the ridge. "But Nienna's spent more time than any of us trying to talk to Indis, and Finwë, and Míriel, and I think the situation has made her more stricken with grief and obsessed with stopping it than she already was. Her latest idea is that Fëanor should have been enough for any father, and that the Noldor wouldn't have run away if Fingolfin and Finarfin hadn't been born."   
  
Morgoth thought about that. Then he said, "Nienna worries a lot about things that can't be changed, doesn't she?"   
  
"Oh, yes," said Yavanna.   
  
They had come just below the ridge now, and Morgoth could hear Finwë's voice.   
  
"-and then I realized that the eldest son of Fëanor was, well, the eldest, and had shining red hair, and walked exuding a sense of mastery all about him. I began to wonder if that sense of mastery extended to everything he did-"   
  
Morgoth yelled out hastily, since he could see that the appreciative crowd below the ridge included Tulkas. "High King of the Noldor!"   
  
Finwë stopped reading, just long enough to peer from side to side. Then he shrugged and looked at Morgoth. "Since no one else who could claim that title is here right now, then I suppose you must be talking to me."   
  
Yavanna snickered. Morgoth glared at her. He felt the Valar were far too prone to finding humor in this situation, especially in times and places where there was none at all.   
  
"What do you want?" Finwë continued, drawing Morgoth's gaze back.   
  
Morgoth held up the carved wooden box of Sues, and drew one out. Finwë should be able to have some sense of what it was; he had done some stupid things, but he wasn't that stupid in general, just oversexed.   
  
"Interesting," said Finwë. "Not as interesting as the next page, of course, where we find out just what your first fantasy was about Maedhros." He turned the page of the diary. "This was the one that made Námo laugh so hard I was able to walk out of Mandos," he added conversationally.   
  
Morgoth moved quickly. He remembered that passage, and it wasn't something that he could stand to hear read. He drew another Sue from the box and held her up.   
  
Finwë chuckled. "Really, Morgoth, did you think that would be a reason for me to stop? I heard about your Sues from my son. I wasn't impressed then. I'm much more interested in what you were doing with the cherries-"   
  
"It's who they are that's important, not what they are," said Morgoth, speaking so quickly he surprised himself. He didn't think he'd spoken that quickly since he was trying to convince Ungoliant not to hog all the light. "You ought to watch them."   
  
Finwë shrugged carelessly. "For a moment or two. Then we should get back to you and the cherries."   
  
Morgoth hastily threw the Sues forward, choosing the rocky ground as the gameboard. It would serve, anyway.   
  
-----   
  
"Come _on_, Morwen."   
  
Vanimelda brushed her hair out of her eyes and shook her head. Her half-sister would lag behind and refuse to catch up with her, through what Vanimelda thought was sheer bad temper. They were going to see the hill of Halifiren and the Tomb of Elendil. Surely that was enough to make anyone hurry.   
  
"I don't wanna."   
  
Vanimelda sighed. "It's all right, Morwen. We'll rest." She should have remembered. She was used to running and walking and even riding, since she was the Princess of Gondor and frequently in and about around the city. Morwen, who had dwelt in the lower reaches of Minas Tirth, had stayed in the city most of her life. It was all right for her to rest for a little while.   
  
----   
  
"Very nice," said Finwë absently. He was flipping through the diary, and Morgoth had a horrible feeling that he knew what the Elf was looking for. He glanced up a moment later, with a bright smile. "Shall I tell everyone what Morgoth was doing the first night after he saw Maedhros?" he asked.   
  
"Yes!" Tulkas roared.   
  
"No!" Morgoth shouted, and gestured to the two Sues again.   
  
-----   
  
Morwen looked up as Vanimelda neared. Vanimelda smiled. The hair was dark as night, darker than their father's, but King Elessar's features were still clear in her. Vanimelda had known the truth the first night she met Morwen, digging through the castle's garbage. Vanimelda was Princess of Gondor, daughter of Arwen and Aragorn, and Morwen was the daughter of Aragorn and a woman in the lower city.   
  
-----   
  
There was an ominous silence. Morgoth glanced up and tried to pretend he had meant that to happen.   
  
"My descendant," said Finwë, "betrayed my other descendant who gave up her immortality for him?"   
  
"Just once," said Morgoth innocently. He paused. "Or was it two times? Pregnancies aren't always certain on the first try, you know."   
  
Finwë yelled something incoherent.   
  
Morgoth grinned smugly, and gestured the Sues forward again.   
  
-----   
  
"I don't wanna, I don't wanna," Morwen whined, leaning her head on her knees and letting her hair fall around her face.  
  
Vanimelda smiled gently at her. Morwen sometimes resented her for being the legitimate daughter of the King, but Vanimelda had tried to entertain her out of that. She would trade her life for Morwen's any day. She was spoiled with jewels and dresses all day long, since her mother liked those things, and flattered by being told that her blue-green eyes were like the sea. She wanted to be on the streets, spunky and scrappy and dodging guards.  
  
-----  
  
"He would never have betrayed Arwen. He was not that kind of man."  
  
Morgoth looked up to see Finwë crouched just above him. He smiled. "Are you so sure of that?"  
  
"Yes," said Finwë fiercely. "My blood ran in his veins, however distantly, and in hers more closely. He would never have done such a thing."  
  
"And yet, Elves who also had your blood in their veins did terrible things." Morgoth eyed the diary. Finwë was holding it behind his back, and Morgoth wondered if that meant he would notice if Morgoth edged forward and grabbed it. Probably. Better to wait for a more opportune moment. "The Kinslaying, for example."  
  
"That was inspired by _you_."  
  
"Yes, and my killing of you." Morgoth smirked. "Do you remember how you died, Finwë?"  
  
Any response Finwë might have made was cut off by the shrilling of alarms. Yavanna flinched beside Morgoth. "Escapees from Mandos," she said. "More of them. And it sounds-"  
  
The alarms abruptly stopped.  
  
"And what does that mean?" Yavanna muttered. "Either Námo suddenly recaptured them, or he decided to let them go willingly, and neither makes any sense."  
  
"Morgoth."  
  
Morgoth turned back, alerted by the taunting tone in Finwë's voice. The Elf winked at him and started reading.  
  
"-fire in my veins to match the fire in his hair. I had long thought of this, but I had never actually done it. I thought-"  
  
"Shut up!" Morgoth yelled. "Shutupshutupshutup! Or I'll tell them how you _really_ died, and what you were really doing with Indis and a pillow when I found you!"  
  
Finwë snarled at him, but didn't come nearer and didn't drop the diary. Morgoth sent the Sues into motion once more.  
  
-----  
  
"Come on," said Morwen, to appease her sister. "I wanna reach Halifirien, too."  
  
Vanimelda smiled at her, and ran merrily away across the grass. Morwen stood more slowly, eyes locked on Vanimelda's back.  
  
How she would like to put a sword right through it!  
  
It wasn't only for her hair or her bastard birth that her mother had named her "dark maiden." She had been born with part of the Shadow still inside her, Sauron's evil still abroad in the world. Sometimes she heard a voice whispering to her at night, of death and destruction and evil, and she had started learning to fight with a black sword because she thought it was the right thing to do.  
  
At the moment, Vanimelda was singing in tune with the nightingales, or whatever stupid birds she had found to sing with her in the daylight. Morwen shut her eyes, smiling.  
  
"Soon enough, sister," she whispered, "you shall be dead, and I shall be Queen of Gondor."  
  
"Mooor-wen! Are you coming?"  
  
"Coming," she whispered, and ran after her.  
  
-----  
  
"It would not happen," said Finwë sharply. "None of my descendants would be that petty in her evil."  
  
Morgoth looked up in surprise. He had thought that Finwë was going to say something about none of his descendants ever turning to evil, and he was going to counter with the example of Fëanor again, but this was different. "What do you mean?"  
  
Finwë stared at him in pity. "We aren't gadflies, Morgoth, to bite at the flank of evil and just sting it a little. We make the world feel our presence. You've felt it, haven't you, both the first time that Fëanor came after you and this time when he escaped? We shake the world. This girl dreams of stabbing her sister in the back due to a case of sibling rivalry and taking over one Kingdom of Men. Not nearly grand enough."  
  
Morgoth stared at him a moment in bafflement. He was never going to understand Elves, or at least not Noldor.  
  
Finwë began to smile then. "Of course, you had some pretty grandiose visions yourself," he said. "Shall we read them?" And he opened the book again.  
  
Morgoth began hastily to speak, encouraged by Yavanna's motions to him. A net of Valar was drawing tighter around the Elf, getting ready to hold him. If he could just distract Finwë for a little while longer, then it might be enough.  
  
-----  
  
"There it is. Halifirien."  
  
Morwen nodded, eyes on the sides of the hill for just a moment before they turned to Firien Wood, which surrounded the hill. They were a lovely woods, dark and deep, and full of secrets that she could perhaps exploit when she killed her sister. Morwen had decided this was the last trip. No more of Vanimelda's dancing and singing to birds, and telling her she had a wonderful life and should just buck up. She had eaten garbage often enough in the streets, had slept on cold cobbles and been abused. She wouldn't take it anymore.  
  
Vanimelda saw her sister's pensive gaze, but shrugged it off. Morwen got like this sometimes. Vanimelda had just learned to ignore it and to go right ahead and along her journey. Things would look up tomorrow.  
  
*****  
  
They camped that night in Firen Wood, and Vanimelda lay on her back, watching the stars, content. Her parents had been nervous about allowing her to venture all the way towards the border of Rohan, but Vanimelda had laughed off their fears. There was nothing in all the Kingdom that would dare to hurt the daughter of Arwen and Aragorn, and she was enough protection all by herself for Morwen.  
  
----  
  
"Oh, really?"  
  
Morgoth looked up again. Finwë was considerably nearer, but the diary was still clutched behind his back.  
  
"Really," Morgoth said. "Evil has been cleared out of that area- well, except for Morwen," he added conscientiously. "What could harm them?"  
  
Finwë scowled. "They still shouldn't be there. They still shouldn't _exist_. King Elessar would not have taken two lovers."  
  
"Why not?" Morgoth asked. "You did."  
  
"There was a _law_," Finwë began, rising to his feet, "that _said_ I could wed Indis, because Míriel refused to come back from Mandos-"  
  
"Yes, yes," Morgoth said, waving a hand. "That made it legal. It doesn't make it right. Besides, if it was applied in this case, Aragorn would just have to kill Arwen or the woman who bore Morwen, and he would be free to wed the other."  
  
Finwë looked close to epilepsy, or perhaps apoplexy. He snarled at the two girls lying secure in the vision of the Wood.  
  
Morgoth shrugged and waved a hand.  
  
-----  
  
A crackling, thumping sound woke Vanimelda. She sat up with a yawn. "Morwen? I told you that we wouldn't go see the Tomb of Elendil until tomorrow-"  
  
She stopped. The light of the fire caught on small, bright red eyes, and then she was able to see the squat shape close to the ground. This wasn't Morwen after all, but an animal.  
  
Vanimelda smiled and held a hand out. "Hello! Who are you? My name is Vanimelda. I-"  
  
That was as far as she got before something ripped through her arm and tossed her into the air. She landed hard, bleeding, crying, pain going through her as the weapons already had. She just managed to turn and look, and saw the animal step into the firelight.  
  
Now she could see the dark bristles, and the madness in the small eyes, and know it for a wild boar. The red gleam on the tusks was her blood.   
  
Vanimelda tried to crawl away, hearing stamping behind her as the boar readied itself to charge. She heard the stamping increase, felt a flash of pain, and then realized the boar had torn into her belly. She curled around the wound, fighting for breath.  
  
She heard Morwen laughing.  
  
Looking up, she saw her bastard sister dancing in celebration, her dark hair flying behind her. She stopped and smiled sweetly at Vanimelda.  
  
"_I_ roused the boar," she said. "I control it, and you shall be dead soon, and I shall be Queen of Gondor."  
  
Vanimelda breathed shallowly. The wound didn't hurt that much, she found, but she knew she was still going to die. "Why?" she whispered. "Why, Morwen?"  
  
Morwen seemed ready to explain, but the boar turned and faced her in that moment, and her eyes widened.  
  
"No," she whispered. "I roused you."  
  
"That doesn't mean you control him," said Vanimelda, watching the boar run after her sister. Morwen fled into Firien Wood, but the beast was right behnd her, and a scream later, Vanimelda knew her sister had probably met her end.  
  
She closed her eyes, head filled with history. It was something to die this way, as Folca King of Rohan had died by the tusks of the Boar of Everholt.   
  
Of course, dying with a sense of history was nothing to living with a sense of it. Vanimelda did have time for that thought before she passed into darkness.  
  
-----  
  
Morgoth blinked at the board. He hadn't meant for the girls to die that way. What had happened?  
  
"I think the world is defending itself now," said Finwë. Morgoth looked up to see him sitting on a boulder just out of reach, and swinging his legs. The diary hung in one hand. "Or your girls were just stupid enough to go into a boar-inhabited wood, and look what happened."  
  
"Maybe that's it," said Morgoth, keeping his eyes steadfastly focused on Finwë's face. The Elf didn't seem to notice Ulmo reaching out from behind him.  
  
Finwë spoke without turning his head. "All ready, my son?"  
  
"Yes, Father."  
  
Morgoth whimpered and turned around. He wasn't proud of the whimper, but it was the only sensible thing to do when Fëanor was standing behind him surrounded by all seven- no, six of his sons. Celegorm was missing.  
  
Maedhros grinned at him and tossed a lock of hair over his face. Maglor was talking with the twins, Amrod and Amras, who were giving Morgoth speculative looks as if wondering what it would be like to hurt him. Caranthir was smiling at Morgoth in a funny way, and Curufin in an even funnier way. Morgoth backed up a step.  
  
"But where is Celegorm?" Finwë was saying.  
  
"He preferred to stay in Mandos with his new love," said Fëanor, turning the words into a sigh. "Something about her escaping from him if he stepped outside."  
  
"He found someone to wed him?" Finwë asked, voice climbing.  
  
"One of the Sues, Father."  
  
Finwë looked hard at Morgoth. "Ah," he said. "Well, that explains it. Most Sues are dim enough to do anything, in my experience."  
  
"Enough of this," said Ulmo, and lunged at Finwë.  
  
The Elf jumped expertly, flinging the diary as he went. Morgoth lunged. It was headed towards Tulkas at the moment, and Tulkas was the worst person he could imagine having it-  
  
Except the one who caught it. Fëanor, who had jumped deftly between the book and the two Valar, winked at him, and then turned and swept west again, his sons and his father all jogging dutifully behind him.  
  
Morgoth started to follow. Fëanor was very close. He did have some hope of catching him.  
  
Until Shelob came clicking and hissing out from behind the ridge and engulfed him in a web, of course.  
  
  
One goal down, one more big one to go...


	29. Beauty Blasted

A/N: Thank you again for the reviews!

  
I don't own the Tolkien characters. By now, I don't think anyone is surprised by this. And if anyone wants this Sue, you can really, really have her. Please.   
  
Also, I don't know if it applies to anyone reading this story, but definite spoilers for the ROTK movie. Just in case.   
  
The Game of the Gods, 29   
  
Morgoth could hear yelling beyond the web, but he had the feeling that the others weren't going to be in time to save him- assuming they even cared about his being in the web in the first place. They probably didn't, he thought sourly. Tulkas was probably delaying them from the rescue, under the impression that it would be a good show.   
  
He grabbed for the only weapon he had, opening the carved box of Sues. He was supposed to be the ultimate evil power of the world, he thought, as his fingers fumbled after an appropriate Sue. Surely he could find one that would defeat this creature, who was very hungry and who was giving him uncomfortable memories of Ungoliant demanding the Silmarils.   
  
His fingers brushed against one that sparked, and Morgoth didn't hesitate, flinging her out before him.   
  
The Sue landed on the ground, and the gameverse spread around her. Morgoth sensed Shelob pausing.   
  
Then she shrieked.   
  
Morgoth sighed and began edging backward. If he could just get away while Shelob was watching the Sue-   
  
Of course, there was a fence of webbing behind him, and the Sue stopped moving without his attention. Morgoth sighed and crouched down, fixing his will so that the girl once more animated.   
  
He would just have to wait here and get out when he could, of course. When Shelob was distracted with the Sue.   
  
Which might take a while.   
  
Morgoth pushed aside the distracting thought and concentrated. He didn't have to think about an opponent playing him this time, and so he could go ahead and play with perfect impunity. This ought to be his best game yet.   
  
A clicking sound made him waver. Balrogs had had to save him from Ungoliant, he remembered-   
  
But again he pushed the thought away, and began.   
  
-----   
  
Beauty peered ahead into the darkness of the cave, lofting her arm so that light could pour from her into the darkness. Her eyes were wide, she knew, but then, she had never expected Frodo and Sam, whom she was tracking to help, to pass into darkness like this.   
  
She licked her lips, and considered the wisdom of going forward. Then she cast the thought away. She had followed Frodo in the first place because, with the Ring, he was an outcast like her, and there was the chance that he might turn his wondrous blue eyes to love someone who was half-Elf, half-hobbit, and had the magic of the Elves glowing like fire through her skin.   
  
----   
  
Morgoth chuckled a little to think about the reactions he would get from Yavanna and Varda, if no one else, with that one, and then lifted his head apprehensively as Shelob stepped forward, the light of the Sue glowing in her eyes. Morgoth swallowed, and then had to close his own. His fear of spiders was that bad. He had a lot of things to curse Ungoliant for.   
  
The darkness did give him more concentration in going ahead and talking about his Sue, though.   
  
-----   
  
Beauty pressed forward into the dark, dank, bad-smelling cave-   
  
-----   
  
"Bad-smelling?"   
  
Morgoth glanced up, eyes widening. Shelob sat not far away, her mandibles slowly opening and closing at him. She did not sound pleased.   
  
"I didn't know you could speak," said Morgoth.   
  
"Of course I can," said Shelob. "But no one ever said anything interesting to me, and no one ever paused to find out what a poor spider wanted before stabbing." Her voice creaked towards sorrow.   
  
Morgoth stared at her for a moment more, then shrugged. "Are you going to play me, then?"   
  
"Why not?" Shelob asked. "I've waited centuries on centuries for a meal, a good one. You smell meaty. A few more minutes will only serve to whet my appetite now, and not torment me."   
  
Morgoth trembled. It shouldn't have been this bad, of course. He was the Dark Power of the world. _He_ should be the one making people cower.   
  
But old memories were waking again. This seemed to be the Valian Year for them.   
  
He sent Beauty forward.   
  
-----   
  
-and found that the light that shone from her skin melted back some of the bad smell, the darkness and the foulness, in the air. Beauty smiled, pleased. It was good for something after all, then.   
  
Anyone looking at her would have seen someone remarkable, though they didn't know it at first. She was apparently a hobbit, but she was taller than any halfling, and she bore no hair on her toes-   
  
-----   
  
"Of course not," said Shelob. "That would be gross."   
  
"_Thank_ you!" said Morgoth. "Finally, someone who agrees with me."   
  
"But is still going to eat you," said Shelob.   
  
Morgoth let his smile falter, and turned back to Beauty as if chastened. But he did have a plan. He thought he did, at least, and that was almost the same thing.   
  
-----   
  
-and she had pointed ears almost hidden beneath her tumbling mane of chestnut hair. Her eyes were large and blue-green, and had the same striking glow that infused the rest of her body, signs of her Elvish heritage.  
  
Now those eyes were wide, as she contemplated the way that Frodo and Sam had taken into the cave. She had to follow them, had to find them, had to-  
  
She shivered, and licked her lips, and pressed forward. She would find them. She had to. Her mother had sung at her birth that she was meant to give light in the darkness, and so she would.  
  
-----  
  
"She glows too much," said Shelob. "Put her out."  
  
Morgoth looked up apologetically. "Sorry. My ears were deafened by the latest screaming of Fëanor. What did you say?"  
  
Shelob muttered and clicked. Morgoth grinned back at her and then bent over Beauty, subtly adding as much glow as he dared to her skin.  
  
-----  
  
"Master Frodo!"  
  
Beauty broke into a run, hoping she was not already too late, fearing she was. She came around the final turning and saw Sam kneeling over Frodo, tears flowing down his face. He was patting gently at his master, but Frodo lay motionless from the spider's poison and did not wake.  
  
-----  
  
"Poison? It was just a little sleeping draught."  
  
Morgoth stared at her. "Shelob," he said at last, "everyone knows you're evil. You don't have to defend your reputation."  
  
Shelob thought about it for a moment. Then she said, "Yes, I believe you're right. That's a load off my mind."  
  
Morgoth shook his head and went back to the game.  
  
-----  
  
"Samwise!"  
  
Sam looked up, eyes widening at the sight of her. "Beauty!" he exclaimed. "Oh, Beauty!" And then he was running forward and embracing her, sobbing into her shoulder. "Oh, Beauty, Frodo's dead, he is! Make it right, Beauty, make it right!"  
  
-----  
  
"I thought _he_ made it right," said Shelob.  
  
"This is a Sue."  
  
"Who has even less reputation than me?"  
  
"Correct."  
  
-----  
  
"It's all right, Samwise, it's all right," Beauty whispered into his hair. It was horrible, but she had to admit that she enjoyed the attention. No one had ever paid so much attention to her back in Hobbiton. Most people probably hadn't noticed that she was gone when she followed Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin to Rivendell. But now she was the last hope of the Fellowship, and of the Quest.  
  
"But Master Frodo- he's dead-"  
  
"No, no, just sleeping," said Beauty, and smiled when Sam lifted a tear-streaked face to her. "Really? Would I lie to you?"  
  
"No," said Sam, relaxing. He knew, just like everyone in Hobbiton, that Beauty couldn't lie. The spirits would punish her if she tried.  
  
-----  
  
"Spirits?" Shelob clicked his mandibles. "Will I have to deal with them, too?"  
  
"They're only conceits of the Sue," said Morgoth.  
  
"It can still make them annoying. Your Sue is annoying me with her light, and we've only barely begun."  
  
Morgoth sighed.  
  
-----  
  
"But what are we going to do?" Sam asked helplessly.  
  
Beauty let him go and knelt beside Frodo. His face was pale, and he didn't appear to be breathing, but she knew he was still alive. Nothing in the natural world was a mystery to her. She reached out and laid her hands on his body, closing her eyes.  
  
The poison was visible to her as a bright coil of angry green in the back of Frodo's neck. She reached out and soothed it with the cool blue touch of her magic, and it burned away into nothingness, though it would still be a long moment before Frodo woke. Beauty sighed and sat on her heels, shaking as if she'd run for a week.  
  
"This is not safe for us," she told Sam solemnly. "We must move as soon as possible, and I think the best way to do that is for me to take Frodo back through the cave. You stay here and look for Gollum."  
  
"Can you carry Frodo?" Sam asked, looking doubtfully from Frodo to Beauty's slender frame.  
  
-----  
  
"She's not slender, she's skinny," said Shelob critically. "Not enough flesh on the bones for a good meal."  
  
"Sues say slender."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"That reputation again, which they mistakenly believe that they have." Morgoth reflected, in some disgust, that he sounded like Varda. That would have angered him more if he hadn't had a giant spider in front of him to trick, of course.  
  
"Ah."  
  
------  
  
"Yes," said Beauty calmly. "Elves are much stronger than they look, you know, Sam, and I am half-Elf."  
  
Sam nodded, and stood back as Beauty hefted Frodo in her arms. He really did weigh almost nothing at all, Beauty thought sadly. He had lost weight while he bore the Ring. She would have to heal him further, and then, when they returned to the Shire, heal him yet again. The thought made her smile. Perhaps some sexual healing would be in order.  
  
"I'll look for Stinker," said Sam, bringing her back to the present moment.  
  
"You do that," said Beauty, and slipped into the tunnel with Frodo held safely in her arms.  
  
-----  
  
"Coming to me?" Shelob asked.  
  
"Yes. Get ready," said Morgoth.  
  
"I am always ready." A click and then a shifting. "I am always hungry."  
  
Morgoth tried not to think about whether the Sue would be enough to satisfy the spider.  
  
-----  
  
Beauty slipped carefully around a corner. She knew this was the way, she knew that she had to turn this corner, and then-  
  
A clicking and a hissing grew up before her, and then the monstrous spider was near her.  
  
-----  
  
"That's me, that's me!"  
  
"Yes," said Morgoth, stifling the urge to laugh at Shelob's earnestness, "that's you."  
  
------  
  
Beauty laid Frodo on the ground and prepared to face her enemy, calling on all the radiance of her magic. If she raised it high enough, then she could easily defeat the spider, and that would end things.  
  
Shelob came closer.  
  
Beauty released the light of her skin in a blinding flash.  
  
-----  
  
Shelob screamed, and stabbed her legs into the gameverse, searching for the Sue. Morgoth ducked back, scrabbling frantically at the webs, and dragging the carved box of Sues with him. He heard Shelob grab something, and then the light ended abruptly, with a crunch that even Morgoth had to admit was a bit satisfying. Beauty had been too insipid for him.  
  
The webs tore, and Morgoth tumbled out into light and voices and Tulkas's laughter. He scrambled up and glared at them.  
  
Tulkas looked at him. Morgoth expected at least a glare in return, or perhaps a flexing of biceps, but Tulkas only doubled over again.  
  
"Your- hair-" he choked.  
  
Morgoth lifted his hand and found that cobwebs were tangled all over and through his hair. He sighed, and raked it away, then turned to look at Varda. "Why didn't you come rescue me?" he demanded plaintively.  
  
Varda gave him a cool look, and then handed him two pieces of paper. "We were rather disturbed by the news," she said. "You'll excuse us for being more excited about that."  
  
"Good news, or bad news?" Morgoth asked, accepting the messages.  
  
"One of each."  
  
The first was from Thorondor. By squinting, Morgoth could make out the "hand." The eagle could write holding a quill in his talon, and no one had ever quite dared to tell him that they couldn't make it out that well.  
  
"_Lloth has definitely left the world. I believe she got bored, or that she only said she was staying around in the first place to mess with Morgoth's mind. I have looked everywhere with my keen eyes, and can spot her in no place.  
  
Thorondor, the Monarch of the Eagles_."  
  
Morgoth sighed in relief. "That's good, then." He looked at the other letter. This hand he recognized at once as the dark, gothic hand of Mandos. He always seemed to write that way. Morgoth had seen the text of a cheery song the Doomsman of the Valar had tried to create once, and it was no use. Lines about birds and sunshine were written in a hand to make babies cry.  
  
"_I let Fëanor and his sons go because I had no choice, because I was told to do so. They had permission. I challenged Fëanor on this, but he showed me absolute proof, and in the end I must bow and obey.  
  
I cannot say I am sorry. No matter what happens, it is unlikely that Fëanor will criticize Vairë's weaving ever again.  
  
Námo, Mandos, Doomsman of the Valar, Lord of the Timeless Halls, Husband of Vairë, Brother of Irmo, Brother of Nienna, Brother-in-Law of Estë..."_  
  
Morgoth gave up. He would run out of time before Mandos ran out of titles.  
  
He looked up at Varda. "Um- it's good that Lloth left?" he tried.  
  
"You were the only one really worried about her," said Varda, scowling at nothing. "I do not like this, this idea that Fëanor and his sons had permission. From whom? Mandos does not simply release prisoners from his halls. I think that I could demand it, and he would not do it."  
  
Morgoth stood thinking for a moment. Then he swallowed. "You said the escape was arranged in the first place."  
  
"Because Fëanor criticized Vairë's weaving, yes."  
  
"But she wasn't the only one involved in it." Morgoth narrowed his eyes, growing more and more sure. "And she wasn't the one who suggested that prisoners walk near the walls. And she wouldn't know where the Men go after they die, where Fëanor got Túrin from. Mandos knows, but he wouldn't tell." He looked at Varda. "Only one Vala fits all that."  
  
Varda groaned. "My husband," she said.  
  
"Manwë," Morgoth agreed. "The idiot." He flinched a moment later. He hadn't meant to say that.  
  
"Don't call Manwë an idiot!" bellowed Tulkas, predictably.  
  
"No," said Varda coldly, "in this case I am inclined to agree." She glanced up as a winged shadow touched the sky, and Thorondor flew towards them. "What news?" she asked. "Is Fëanor making for anywhere in particular?"  
  
"Straight west," said Thorondor, settling to the ground, "to Ekkaia." He turned and held out his leg to Morgoth. "And he sends this message."  
  
Morgoth unrolled it, gingerly. The hand was Fëanor's, and written in that swift, dashing way that meant he was cheerfully deranged.  
  
"_Dear He-Who-Was-Melkor-Until-I-Renamed-Him,  
  
We're going west now, and won't attack in Valinor again. Do you want to know what I'm doing? Look for me in the ultimate West, on the shores of the outer Sea.  
  
Fëanor the Great and Terrible.  
  
P.S. My sons and father and wife send their love._"  
  
Morgoth showed it to them in silence. Varda shook her head impatiently.   
  
"Forget that for now. At least in the West, he can't cause any trouble. I'm going to talk to Manwë." She strode away.  
  
After some hesitation, Morgoth followed her.  
  
"Does this mean no more entertaining things are going to happen to Morgoth?" Tulkas whined behind them. "And I was just about to make some ambrosia for the next one."  
  
  
  
Fëanor is doing something, never fear.  
  
But Morgoth should be worried. Very worried.


	30. Rapture Redeemed

A/N: Thank you for the reviews! Last "normal" chapter here; I'll be posting two more chapters detailing the conclusion of Fëanor's plans after this, and then the epilogue.

Obviously, by now, I don't own the Tolkien characters.  
  
The Game of the Gods, 30  
  
"I never knew there was a shortcut to Taniquetil in the middle of Valinor," said Morgoth in wonder, since it seemed they had simply stepped through a door and come out again on the top of the mountain.  
  
Varda gave him a long-suffering glance. "And why would we tell _you_?"  
  
"Point," Morgoth admitted, and looked around curiously. The halls of Manwë and Varda hadn't changed much from the last time he was there; they were still insufferably pretty and pure and perfect. The only noticeable change was a humming that seemed to rattle the vaults, and compete with the never-ending singing of the Vanyar.  
  
"Manwë's meditating again," Varda muttered, and strode forward. Morgoth followed, suddenly wondering if he really wanted to be in the room when Varda and Manwë were having a little domestic quarrel.  
  
"There you are."  
  
The humming broke apart, and Manwë said in a majestic voice, "Varda. So good of thee to come. I suppose thou hast figured out I set Fëanor free?" He looked around his wife and nodded to Morgoth. "Be welcome here, brother, in the home of those who were thine enemies, but are now thy friends, now that thou hast been tended and returned to light."  
  
Morgoth stared at him, then said, "Excuse me?"  
  
"And Fëanor's sons are also out of Mandos!" Varda was ranting on, ignoring them both. "What kind of King of Arda _are_ you? Did you really think that they wouldn't cause havoc?"  
  
Morgoth leaned around her, to try to see Manwë more closely. "Excuse me," he said. "What was that bit about me being redeemed and returned to light?"  
  
Manwë smiled benignly at him. "Thou art, of course. Wert thou not part of the group of Valar trying to turn Fëanor back? Thou art of the light again, though thy methods, I must confess," he said, looking at the box of Sues, "leave a little to be desired. But even that will rebound in the end to the glory of Eru."  
  
"I am not on the side of the Valar," said Morgoth, horrified that anyone could have that idea. _Has everyone been thinking this? Have I just given Tulkas another reason to laugh up those short sleeves he wears to show off his biceps at me? At least, when I was the Lord of Evil, I was true to myself._  
  
"But thou art," said Manwë, with the serenity that had long made Morgoth want to smack him, and had driven him to seek solitude in the Void in the first place, since Eru didn't approve of smacking. "Of course thou art. Thou wert working in harmony to fulfill Eru's plans for the destiny of His children."  
  
"Given that," said Varda icily, "why did you let Fëanor out of Mandos? He was supposed to stay there."  
  
Manwë turned misty eyes on her. "Thou must know-"  
  
"Manwë! We've talked about the archaism."  
  
Manwë sighed. Speaking as if the words caused physical pain, he said, "I let him go because I wanted to show- _you_ that the worst can be redeemed. I know that his plan will rebound to the greater glory of Eru. All things do."  
  
"You know what his plan is, then?" Varda asked with savage quickness.  
  
"Well, no." Manwë closed his eyes. "But it will still rebound to the greater glory of Eru. I can comprehend what Fëanor might have done, had he been allowed to live. And all things would have rebounded to the greater glory of Eru. So this will rebound-"  
  
"Make him stop saying that," Morgoth appealed to Varda.  
  
"I wish I could," Varda muttered, and then addressed her husband again. "Are you going to help us catch Fëanor?"  
  
"I want to show you why I set him free from Mandos," said Manwë, with only a little wince at the pronoun this time. "I wish to show you how the worst of the worst can be redeemed." He turned to Morgoth. "You must have a Sue in your carven box that fits this category. Place her into play, and I will show you how she can be brought back from the brink of darkness."  
  
Morgoth stared at him, then at Varda. "He's not serious?"  
  
"Apparently so." Varda was now scowling so hard that Morgoth was vaguely surprised he couldn't feel the evil in the world increasing. "But I say we do it. It's the only way to stop him from just whisking Fëanor away somewhere else when we do catch up with him."  
  
Morgoth hesitated for a long moment. He didn't want to be on the side of the Valar-  
  
_I do not even want to consider that I could have been._  
  
But if Fëanor wasn't shut away in Mandos again, then the Elf would go on making his life miserable.  
  
Resignedly, Morgoth opened the box and looked in, searching for a Sue. At last he pulled out a slender Elven girl and set her in the middle of the floor.  
  
Manwë examined her for a moment, then nodded. "Not too bad," he said. "Some things must change, but ye-"  
  
"_Manwë_," said his wife.  
  
"You," the King of Arda said with a grumpy sigh, "will see how easily they can be fixed." He snapped his fingers, and the Sue began to move.  
  
"That's my privilege-" Morgoth began, but Varda's hand on his shoulder reminded him it really wasn't worth it. Sulkily, he began the story.  
  
-----  
  
Rapture stared out the window, tears pouring down her face. Until today she had been the happiest of the happy elven maidens of Mirkwood, but that was before her father, King Thranduil, had forbidden her to leave home and follow her brother Legolas to Rivendell. He had said she couldn't do it because she was a girl-  
  
-----  
  
"What does that have to do with it?" Manwë inquired.  
  
Morgoth sighed, and wondered how to explain the finer points of Sue-etiquette to Manwë. Given how little luck Varda had in persuading him of such points among the Valar, he didn't think he was capable of it.  
  
"A lot of Sues think Elvish women can't do anything but sit around home and wear dresses and cry," he said at last.  
  
"Why not?'  
  
Morgoth shook his head. "They simply have that idea."  
  
"But it is a false idea," said Manwë, "and it must be changed. Seeing into the depths of Rapture's soul to transform her requires bringing her into line with the laws of the world, even as Fëanor's redemption will bring him into line with the laws of the world. Let us begin the story again, and change certain of the words so that Rapture avoids this particular trap and becomes redeemable."  
  
Morgoth sighed. "Fine."  
  
-----  
  
Rapture stared out the window, tears pouring down her face. She had wanted to join her brother Legolas on the ride to Rivendell, to report the news of the creature Gollum's escape, but her father, King Thranduil, had said that risking one of his children to carry the news was quite enough. Rapture would miss Legolas, and the shades of Mirkwood seemed lonelier without him.  
  
She sighed, turned away from the window, and gathered up the magical amulet that lay across the bed-  
  
-----  
  
"The what?"  
  
Morgoth groaned his teeth. Yes, he was going to get bored explaining Sue-etiquette to Manwë very quickly.  
  
"Most Sues have some powerful magic," he said patiently. "A sword, a jewel, a unicorn- something that makes them special."  
  
"But a sword or a jewel or a horse with a horn can't make them special," said Manwë. "It might be one thing if these were reflections of their true honor, like the title of High King deposited upon Finwë because of his greatness and bravery, but I sense no such depth to Rapture."  
  
"It's just often assumed to be there," Morgoth mumbled._Ages in Arda and I still don't know as much as my naïve brother._  
  
Manwë shook his head serenely. "This is another area in which she will have to be rewritten."  
  
----  
  
Rapture sighed and turned from the window, opening the door to seek out her father. She knew that she probably needed to talk to him, and that he might want to talk to her.  
  
She found him in the throne room, gazing moodily out the window at the clouds floating past-  
  
----  
  
"What clouds? Thranduil's palace is underground."  
  
"But that's not _fun_ for a Sue," said Morgoth, confident he was on firmer ground here. After all, Manwë himself lived on vaults on the top of Taniquetil, not in a hole. And he never stayed long in Mandos when he visited, either. He must understand this. "They want to be some place where they can lean on balconies and sigh and watch clouds floating by."  
  
"But she doesn't really need to sigh, does she, if we are to redeem her from the angsty Sue she is into a true Elf?" Manwë asked.  
  
Morgoth frowned. _Giving up writing Sues is harder than I thought_. "No, I suppose she doesn't need it," he admitted.  
  
"Then place her underground," said Manwë, leaning back. "I trust you to rewrite this portion of the story."  
  
Morgoth proceeded, keeping a wary eye on Varda, who was glaring at her husband as if she wanted to murder him for the delay. If she did decide to do it, Morgoth would jump aside; he wanted both out of the way and a good seat for the show.  
  
-----  
  
She found her father beside the underground river, gazing moodily into it. He turned at the sound of her footsteps, and his face lit with a smile. He looked wizened and old in the light of the torches.  
  
----  
  
Morgoth stopped. For a moment, he and Manwë sat in silence, and then Morgoth started panicking.  
  
"What did you do to me?" he demanded of his brother.  
  
"Do to thee?" Manwë just smiled at him.  
  
"I knew that I shouldn't describe Thranduil that way, because Elves don't get old!" yelled Morgoth, and leaped to his feet. He was shaking. "I stopped because I thought of it, not because you told me to! Take whatever stupid charm of goodness and light you worked _off_ me!"  
  
"I put no charm on thee," said Manwë, and now he was smiling. "Thou art just another example of how that which was corrupted may be healed, how that which was brought low may be brought back to the heights, how that-"  
  
"Manwë," said Varda.  
  
Manwë sighed. "The language, or the archaism?"  
  
"Both."  
  
The King of Arda sighed again, but fixed his gaze calmly on Morgoth. "I did nothing to you. You did it to yourself, if you may call it anything. Now, finish the story. I think you'll find it most easy now that I'm no longer helping you."  
  
Shuddering, Morgoth sat down and returned to the story of Rapture, whom he was now beginning to hate violently.  
  
----  
  
"Daughter," said the King, with a short nod, the torches flickering on his handsome face. "What troubles you?"  
  
"The same thing that hangs heavy on your own heart, Father," Rapture admitted, embracing him for a moment and then walking beside him towards the stairs. "I fear for Legolas, and more, I fear for what the escape of the creature Gollum means. If darkness is stirring again, then how long can the light we have raised here endure?"  
  
"I do not know," said Thranduil, and paused a moment to gaze at a torch. "We will flicker, and perhaps not be smothered by Sauron. But after that, the doom either of fading or the call of the Sea must extinguish our light. The only grace we may hope for is to choose the time of our fading."  
  
Rapture closed her eyes. Once, she might have raged in bitterness against the doom that lay on her and her people, but those days had long since passed. She had lived her life among the reminders of mortality- the leaves that fell in the autumn, the animals that flourished and died too quickly for an Elf to bear, the sudden death at the end of a spider's mandibles that came to some of the Mirkwood Elves. She knew what the world was really like, and railing about it made no difference.  
  
She had passed beyond that bitterness, to something like peace.  
  
And as her father said, she had chosen the way of her fading. She meant to leave Mirkwood soon, to journey in silence and in secret West to the sea. She would judge if it had any power over her heart or not, and if it did not, then she would return to dwell the rest of her days in Mirkwood while memory and song still lived beneath the leaves and stone. If the waves spoke to her, she would sail West.  
  
Of course, she might never have to know. She could stay here and just wait, far from the call of the gulls. In fact, journeying West felt suspiciously like running away from the threat that Sauron represented.  
  
But that, too, was a decision Rapture had confronted and come to accept. If she remained in the wood, she was hiding from the sea, and she would not represent a mighty asset. One sword would, in the end, do little in the war against Sauron. And Rapture, who had always been a healer, did not want to let the corruption of the sword into her soul by wielding one.  
  
It was different from her father, who had fought long and hard to preserve his realm. Rapture was certain he would understand her desire, though, and acquiesce to her plan.   
  
The halls echoed with the fading footsteps of the two Elves.  
  
------  
  
"Hmmm," said Manwë and nodded. "Some faults still remaining- the lack of an Elvish name, too much exposition- but she might come to adapt nicely, and it would be a story about Rapture rather than a story about Rapture saving the world."  
  
Morgoth let out his breath, and then was annoyed with himself for finding he had actually felt suspense concerning Manwë's judgment. _The idiot judges everything beneficially_, he reminded himself. _It's not like he actually has a choice._  
  
"So now, you see," Manwë went on, smiling, "that the worst can be redeemed. I let Fëanor out of Mandos to let him have that chance. And you and your Sue, Morgoth, have proved my point."  
  
"And Fëanor's sons?" asked Varda, who seemed a little more relaxed. Morgoth regretted that. He supposed being in the vaults and listening to the singing of the Vanyar would have that effect on her, since she was good. The singing just grated on his ears like the croaking of the Balrogs in breeding season. "Did you give them permission to leave Mandos so they might aid in their father's redemption?"  
  
Manwë blinked gently at her. "I never gave them permission."  
  
Morgoth swallowed in a throat gone suddenly dry. Varda stood up straight.  
  
"This isn't funny, Manwë," she said threateningly. "I thought you couldn't lie-"  
  
"I can't, of course." Manwë smiled gently at her. "I am pleased that they are free, because I think it a shame they were cooped up so long and suffered so much, but I did not give them permission."  
  
"Then," Varda said in a whisper, "either Mandos was lying, which means he has somehow become corrupted, or-" She closed her eyes. Morgoth could almost feel her brain racing in furious thought. For that matter, his own was.  
  
_If not Manwë, then who?_  
  
"We must go," said Varda. Morgoth looked at her to see that the light from her face had grown almost dim enough to be comfortable. "If this means what I think it does, then-"  
  
She never got to finish the sentence. A cry echoed from the West, and for a moment the Vanyar shut up, probably in sheer surprise. Varda whipped around.  
  
"Tulkas," she said. "And he sounds frightened."  
  
Of course, she started running West. Morgoth hesitated. _Why are people always going towards blood-curdling screams?_  
  
"I would like to talk to thee about thy redemption," said Manwë, leaning forward. "Obviously, now that thou art upon the side of the Valar, thou-"  
  
Morgoth began running after Varda. There was always the chance that something really funny had happened to Tulkas. And anything was better than listening to Manwë natter on about his redemption.  
  
_Which doesn't exist. I am not helping the Valar,_ Morgoth reassured himself firmly. _I am not. It is an alliance of political convenience, and the moment I am through with them, I shall unleash the Sues all at once and shatter Arda._  
  
That was a rather pleasant image, but it only lasted until he remembered that Fëanor had found something that made Tulkas scream. If they couldn't defeat that…  
  
A burning anger began to grow in Morgoth.  
  
_I am the Dark Power of the world. Not some upstart Elf. I shall devastate whatever he has found, and reclaim my title. In all ways. No more helping the Valar._  
  


I think Morgoth has some issues he really needs to work out, as Nienna would say.


	31. Steel Stamped Down: Part One

A/N: Glad everyone's enjoying this! Hope you enjoy the race to end just as much.

Here we go, one of the last two chapters. I may end up splitting this up because of the length, but maybe not.   
  
Either way, the story's probably going to end tomorrow.   
  
Weird.   
  
  
I don't own the Tolkien characters. The only characters of mine that have appeared in this story are the Sues, and I was as glad to see them go as anyone else was.   
  
The Game of the Gods, 31   
  
"There they are."   
  
Morgoth squinted. He and Varda were almost at the western edge of Valinor, and he could see that Tulkas was battling- _something_. He frowned. Tulkas had what must be near the greatest strength in the Kingdom of Arda, if not the greatest. What could Fëanor have found that would fight him?   
  
Morgoth found that he didn't want to know.   
  
Varda, of course, was going to insist on knowing. "Tulkas!" she called, and Morgoth could see that she was fighting back that damn laughter again. She always seemed to be on Fëanor's side, at least partially. "Found something that's a little too much for you to handle?"   
  
"Shut up!" Tulkas shouted, and ducked a swipe from the opponent facing him. "It's not funny. And you wouldn't be able to defeat him, either."   
  
"Of course not," said the figure, in a bored voice that Morgoth found horribly familiar. "No one can defeat me. I am the ultimate fighter, the ultimate wizard, the ultimate ladies' man. No one can make me less than I am."   
  
Morgoth swallowed. He opened the box of Sues and looked at the very back of it, at the slots that held the most powerful ones. There they were, the two empty places where he had found only a note in Maedhros's shaky hand laughing at him.   
  
"I can defeat you, you-" Varda was shouting.   
  
Morgoth tapped her on the shoulder. She jerked away as if his hand was slimy. Morgoth stiffened proudly. He scraped the slime off at least once every Valian Year; she had nothing to complain about.   
  
"No, Varda, you really can't," he said quietly. "This is Steel, my Gary Stu, and I deliberately made him the best at everything. Even I couldn't have stopped him once he got into a game."   
  
"Which means," said Varda, her voice thick with horror, "that you'll win?"   
  
Morgoth hadn't thought of it like that. He brightened up when he began to. "Yes, I think I will," he said, watching with approval as Steel forced Tulkas backwards. Of course, he was supposedly an Elf, but he had the power to grow to giant size if he wanted, and the robot arms that he had built for himself were easily moving towards a grip around Tulkas's throat.   
  
"No," said an easy voice near them, "it means that _I'll_ win."   
  
Morgoth leaped in the air, and then turned around. Fëanor grinned at him and waved a lazy hand at his sons, who all moved up behind him. Morgoth looked away. He could have borne Maedhros's knowing stare, even the way the twins and Maglor grinned, but Curufin's funny smile was really getting on his nerves.   
  
"You must have wondered what I was doing," said Fëanor. "Come, Morgoth, share your attempts to equal my cleverness with us. What did you think I was doing? I promise that I'll allow you time to think about your answer."   
  
Morgoth looked pleadingly at Varda, but she was watching Tulkas and Steel and muttering about ways to defeat the Gary Stu. She was always one to take up the hopeless causes, Morgoth thought, scowling as he turned back. Improving Elves, making stars that would only burn out in the end- trying to put down enemies who could not be put down.   
  
"I thought," he said at last, "that you might have wanted to fight a final battle, against me and the Valar."   
  
"_Wrong_," said Fëanor sharply. He nodded to someone behind Morgoth. "You know what to do, Caranthir."   
  
Morgoth started to turn, but it was too late. Caranthir stabbed down sharply with the sword he held, and Morgoth howled as it went through the foot that Fingolfin hadn't wounded. He hopped backwards, and out came black blood in a steaming gout. He continued to hop, while Caranthir leaned on his sword and looked at the Vala contentedly.   
  
"That," he said, "was rather fun."   
  
Morgoth recovered his balance at last, and yelled at Fëanor, "Well, how was I supposed to know? You seem determined to unleash Steel, so you might want to destroy us for all I know."   
  
Fëanor sighed. Speaking patiently, he said, "If I destroyed all of you, then I would be destroying the only ones who can properly appreciate my triumph. The Vanyar and the Teleri won't stop their singing long enough to pay attention to anyone else. A lot of the people I would have liked to see this are either in Mandos or living under that milksop Finarfin, and can't or won't see. I need an audience. I am leaving you alive to be my audience." He smiled. "Guess again."   
  
"I can't-"   
  
"Morgoth!"   
  
Morgoth turned swiftly. Steel had knocked Tulkas down and was standing with one foot on his neck, while leaning forward and smirking at Varda. The Star-Kindler was backing away from the Gary Stu with a look of utter disgust on her face.   
  
Morgoth sighed. "What did he do now?" he asked.   
  
"He said… he said…" Varda shook her head. "I can't even repeat it. It was so disgusting."   
  
"I asked her if she thought the sky was particularly dark," said Steel, sounding huffy, "since she has the stars beaming out of her eyes."   
  
Morgoth waited. Varda glared at him. Steel looked plaintive.   
  
"Well?" Morgoth asked Varda at last. "You _do_ have the stars beaming out of your eyes, and you know that fact as well as anyone else does."   
  
"But he can't just _say_ it!" yelled Varda. "He's trying to pick me up!"   
  
"Of course," said Steel, blinking. "That's what I do with pretty women. What else would you suggest I do?"   
  
"Court them, perhaps," said Varda. "And above all, take care to recognize those Valier who are already _married_."   
  
"You're an old married lady?" Steel looked as if someone had kicked him in the gut. "Ugh. Wowzer. Thanks for telling me, man. I'll go find a nice, fresh Vala maiden to court instead."   
  
He wandered off.   
  
Varda stared after him, gasping. Then she turned to Morgoth, and he actually flinched at the level of hatred in her eyes.  
  
"Destroy him," she ground out. "Do it."  
  
"I told you, I can't destroy him," said Morgoth. From the look on Varda's face, he guessed that was a bad thing to say, but it was the truth. He shrank away from her, looking down and hoping that would help. "I really can't. He's a Gary Stu, and they're more powerful than Marys. It's just their reason for existing."  
  
Varda opened her mouth to say something that would probably be cutting.  
  
"Why not be mad at Fëanor?" added Morgoth, as a flash of inspiration hit him. "Since it was all his fault anyway."  
  
Varda turned at once. "Why did you loose this- Stu, Fëanor?" she asked in a voice of dangerous calm. "Did you know what it would do?"  
  
"Oh, of course," said Fëanor mildly, gazing west into the darkness instead of at Varda. "It's all part of my master plan."  
  
"You don't _have_ a plan!" Varda howled. "I bet you're just making it all up as you go along!"  
  
Fëanor laughed. "Actually, I'm not. But would it really matter if I was? You can't stop me. There's only one person who can stop me."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Soon," said Fëanor dreamily, still gazing towards the Void. "Very soon now."  
  
Varda's retort was interrupted by a loud shriek. Morgoth winced. He knew who that was. She was usually soft-voiced and gentle, but when she got going, Estë could scream.  
  
"Come on," groaned Varda, and headed towards the gardens of Lórien. Morgoth hesitated, then remembered that Fëanor and his sons were behind him and followed her hastily.  
  
"But I didn't get a chance to do what I wanted to do, Father!" Curufin whined.  
  
"Don't worry, my son," said Fëanor soothingly. "You shall be able to torture the dark coward all you like, soon enough."  
  
Morgoth closed his eyes. He couldn't stand being called a coward.  
  
On the other hand, he couldn't stand the thought of limping more badly than he was already limping because of an Elf, either.  
  
He kept following Varda.  
  
-----  
  
"I love my husband!"  
  
"Yes, but you're _pretty_," said Steel's voice. "And you were walking alone and singing. Everyone knows that maidens do that when they're sighing for love. I bet that you're not really married. You're betrothed to some evil, ugly bastard you feel compelled to marry for your family's sake, but what you really want is love and passion."  
  
"I get plenty of that from Lórien!" Estë was shouting, backing away from Steel with her hair disheveled.  
  
Morgoth muttered to Varda, "Let's intervene. I'm really not all that curious what Estë and Lórien get up to in the bedchamber."  
  
"Nor am I," Varda agreed, and stepped forward with a loud cough. Steel looked around at her. "I hate to break up your fun," she said, "but Estë is also married, and has been for a long time."  
  
Steel looked wistfully at Estë. "How long?"  
  
"Since the beginning of the world."  
  
"Damn," muttered Steel, and wandered away again.   
  
Varda shook her head and turned to Estë. "Is there any way that you could make him go to sleep, perhaps? Get water from your vats and scatter it on his eyes?"  
  
Estë gave her a grumpy glance. She was straightening her hair and her dress as if they had been torn to pieces. "You know that just offers refreshment," she said. "And I think that's the last thing he needs."  
  
"Get Lórien to send him dreams and put him to sleep, then."  
  
"That might work," Estë agreed, and hurried away.  
  
"It won't work," said Morgoth. "I told you, he can resist absolutely anything. He likes to make advances to pretty women, but that's his only weakness. He'll just fight his way free of the dream, and after that he'll have the power of dream magic, or something similar."  
  
Varda swore in frustration. Morgoth shrugged to recognize his name amongst her curse words. _At least that proves she doesn't think I'm on her side._  
  
"We have to stop Fëanor," she said. "We have to make sure that his plan, whatever it is, doesn't succeed."  
  
"Then shouldn't you be concentrating on _Fëanor_, instead of Steel?" Morgoth said, quite pleased with himself for pointing out the obvious.  
  
Varda paused for a moment. Then she turned towards him with a bright, malicious smile. Morgoth swallowed, suddenly thinking it might have been better to keep his opinion to himself.  
  
"Yes, of course, you're exactly right," said Varda, almost crooning. "One of us should concentrate on Fëanor. And he seems to like bragging to you the most. Perhaps you can't trick his plan out of him, or guess it, but you could flatter it out of him."  
  
Morgoth felt sick. He shook his head, tried to express his objections, and finally came out with, "The only person I should be speaking flattery to is myself."  
  
Varda bared her teeth in something that was definitely not a smile. "Go and talk to him, or I'll do something you'll hate far more."  
  
"There's nothing I would hate more than kissing my enemy's foot!" Morgoth wailed. "I wasn't made to do that!"  
  
"I'll make you sit in a room with Nienna and Estë, while Estë talks about her hair and Nienna talks about your inner Ainu."  
  
"I'm going," said Morgoth, and fled. Fëanor at least usually ran out of things to say after a while.  
  
Of course, Morgoth remembered, the Elf had shown unsurpassed eloquence on the subject of his own genius so far.  
  
------  
  
"Morgoth," said Fëanor, without taking his eyes off the Void. He was smiling in anticipation, though Morgoth wasn't sure of what. The Void just looked like darkness to him when he glanced at it. "So nice of you to join us. Are you going to guess what my plan is again?"  
  
"Yes, please do," said Caranthir enthusiastically. He smiled at Morgoth. "I think I want to stab you under the armpit this time."  
  
Morgoth winced, tried to make it clear that he wasn't limping too badly, and looked at Fëanor with as innocent an expression as he could on his face. "I was thinking I would much rather hear about your plan from your own mouth," he said. "I don't think that words could do it justice."  
  
Fëanor gave him a startled glance. "Why, thank you. Words can't do it justice. That much is true."  
  
"So will you tell me?" Morgoth asked, wrinkling his nose in disgust to hear himself sound as if he were pleading. _It's for a good cause_, he tried to remind himself, but he had heard the same words used to excuse everything from the Vanyar singing to Manwë setting Fëanor free in the first place, so they didn't have the effect they might have.  
  
_Or maybe they don't have that effect on me because I'm still the Lord of Evil_, Morgoth thought, brightening.  
  
"Hmmm," said Fëanor.  
  
"Oh, Father, don't!" Caranthir pleaded. "I really, _really_ want to stab him."  
  
"And flay him," said one of the twins. Morgoth had never been able to tell them apart that well. He thought this one was Amrod, but he couldn't be sure.  
  
"No, it was impalement," the other corrected. "Honestly, Amras, we talked about it for ages in Mandos. Get it right."  
  
"I want my turn, too," said Curufin, and went on smiling in a funny way. Morgoth shuddered and looked at Fëanor.  
  
"Think about it this way," he said. "You'll just have to wait for your plan to play out, if you don't explain it to me. If you do, then that means you can show it off twice- once when you explain, once when it happens."  
  
Fëanor grinned fiercely. "At times I like the way you imitate thoughts from your betters," he said. "All right. What I wanted with the Silmarils was-"  
  
The darkness beyond the world rippled. Fëanor leaned forward, staring intently.  
  
An Elven woman, looking tired and harassed, walked out of it.  
  
"What are _you_ doing here?" Fëanor asked, sounding infinitely disappointed.  
  
"This isn't quite a big enough disturbance to get the attention you wanted," said the Elf coolly. "He sent me instead, even though I should have been able to _rest in peace_." She turned and looked at Morgoth. "And you'll stay out of my way and not help your Stu, or I'll just show everyone why I won our first confrontation."  
  
Morgoth cowered. Even the laughter of Fëanor's sons couldn't make him stand more upright.  
  
"Um…hello, Lúthien," he croaked.  
  
Lúthien glared at him, snorted, and then turned away. "I'll handle Steel," she called over her shoulder. "Always a woman's job, isn't it?"  
  
  
  
Yes, I'll have to split the chapter up. There should be another part coming later today.   
  
And Fëanor's plan _will_ eventually be revealed, I swear.


	32. Steel Stamped Down: Part Two

A/N: Second part of this chapter, and a smackdown for the Gary Stu.   
  
Well, of _course_. Lúthien is involved.  
  
  
The Game of the Gods, 32  
  
"Why are you here?"  
  
Morgoth glared. Fëanor and his sons had remained standing- uselessly, Morgoth thought- next to the Walls of the World, and so he dared to stand up to Lúthien. There was always the chance that she would crumple and cry, in the same way that there was always a chance Eru would forgive him. At least no one would see if he cowered again. "Because I can't wait to see you lose."  
  
Lúthien looked at him patiently. "Admit it, Morgoth. You wanted me. Badly."  
  
"Not my fault," said Morgoth. "Look at you."  
  
"Yes, everyone sees my beauty," said Lúthien, with a sigh, walking past the Gardens of Lórien and towards the sound of loud giggling. Morgoth actually wasn't sure he wanted to see the woman whom Steel could charm. "Or my choice to give up my immortality. No one seems to remember that I had to convince the man I loved to live, die twice, dance and sing before two Valar, run away from my parents and stand before them-"  
  
"Yes, I know you're a heroine!" snapped Morgoth. "I didn't need the full recitation."  
  
"You'll get whatever I choose to hand out," said Lúthien, stepping past a corner of the Gardens full of singing nightingales. "I am not happy about being summoned back like this, and I think that I should get rid of this Stu as soon as possible."  
  
"It won't be easy," Morgoth warned her.  
  
Lúthien halted and gave him a glance that made Morgoth flinch in a way that even Fëanor's glances didn't. Fëanor was mad, at bottom, and that was reflected in his eyes. Lúthien just looked incredibly tired of having to clean up other people's messes. It reminded Morgoth of nothing so much as the way that Eru had looked at him when he began to sing his competing themes.  
  
"Do you think," Lúthien asked, "that anything I have done is _easy_?"  
  
"Well-" Morgoth began.  
  
Lúthien snorted at him, and walked towards Steel. He was sitting at a wrought iron table that he had obviously conjured using his magic, and was leaning across it to flirt with the woman on the other side.  
  
"And your eyes," he was saying at the moment, "your eyes are too lovely for weeping! Surely they should be bright and gazing into mine with the love and adoration that I know is in you."  
  
The woman giggling on the other side of the table, to Morgoth's horror, was Nienna.  
  
"Do you really think," the Valië asked, looking down and blushing, "do you really think that you can see my inner Ainu?"  
  
Steel clasped her hand and touched her cheek. "More clearly," he said with fervent admiration, "than I have ever seen anyone's inner Ainu before."  
  
Morgoth couldn't keep from laughing aloud at that. "He's never seen anyone's inner Ainu before," he said, when Nienna glared at him, and Steel rose slowly to his feet, clapping his robotic arms together.  
  
"How do you know, Morgoth?" he asked, and then stopped as he caught sight of Lúthien. "Hel-_lo_," he said, and grinned. "Sweet little thing, aren't you?"  
  
Morgoth glanced at Lúthien. He thought she would do the same thing she had done with him, and start singing to enchant Steel. Of course, she didn't have the Silmaril or Beren to drive her this time, and Gary Stus were invincible to women if they turned their real charm on them, so perhaps she was going to do a worse job of it. Morgoth was looking forward to that. Perhaps if someone else had come to defeat Steel, he wouldn't have been, but Lúthien was and always had been an obnoxious little girl.  
  
"I am not a sweet little thing," said Lúthien. "And you have a woman behind you who was listening to you with great attention."  
  
"It doesn't matter," said Steel, gazing at her with rapt attention. He didn't see Nienna's frown, of course, but then, he had his back to the Valië. "Nothing matters, my dear, except you."  
  
Lúthien smiled, a smile with a sharp edge that would have revealed her true nature to Morgoth the moment he saw it, if she had smiled that way when he first met her. "How wrong you are," she murmured. "Arda matters. I am here to see that you shall not destroy it."  
  
"Oh, come on," said Steel, reaching out and laying a friendly hand on her shoulder. "A pretty little thing like you?"  
  
Lúthien looked up at him, and her eyes narrowed.  
  
Morgoth inched backwards.  
  
"Hands off," said Lúthien, her teeth snapping shut on the words. Steel jumped and took his hand from her shoulder, and then looked disgusted with himself.  
  
"I like a girl with spirit," he said.  
  
"I like men who vow to go into danger for me, and then agree that they should have let me come along in the first place," said Lúthien.  
  
Steel blinked. "Well, I'm sure something could be arranged," he said. "What kind of thing would you like?"  
  
Lúthien smiled. "Nothing you could give me. My husband and son are gone from the world, and the Silmaril that once burned on my breast is now in the hand of another and no longer my desire. I have passed beyond you, and there is nothing that you could have done to charm me, even had we met in the days of my youth."  
  
Steel blinked at her for a moment longer. Then he said, "Want to watch me do this?" and grew to the size of Tulkas before shrinking back down again.  
  
"No," said Lúthien calmly.  
  
"You were speaking pretty words to me," huffed Nienna, coming around the corner of the wrought iron table. "And you told me that you liked it I wasn't married, that only maidens appealed to you!"  
  
"Beauty, most of all," said Steel. "And spirit." He was still staring in fascination at Lúthien. "There must be something that I could do to impress you."  
  
"Nothing."  
  
Morgoth shook his head. What in the world was Lúthien doing? It would have been an easy matter for her to flirt with and charm Steel, and then get him to go into the Void, or something similar. Instead, she seemed content to stand around and bandy words with him.  
  
_Of course, I am forgetting that Gary Stus are invincible._ Morgoth smiled. _And forgetting that if I win, evil will have conquered in Arda._ He settled down to watch the rest of the contest with a little more cheerfulness.  
  
"But there must be _something_," said Steel. "I could pluck the sun and moon out of the sky for you, if that's what you wanted."  
  
"I don't want that," said Lúthien. "What would I do with the sun and the moon? One would burn Arda to ashes, and the other would pursue the sun with his hopeless love."  
  
Steel blinked helplessly for a few moments. Then he choked out, "But it would be _cool_."  
  
Morgoth smirked, then stopped. Was he actually smirking to see his Stu in distress? Was he actually approving of what Lúthien was doing?  
  
_Oh, Eru, I am converting to the side of the Valar! No! Back, good thoughts!_  
  
"I don't care about cool," said Lúthien, pronouncing the last word as if it were a small dead thing that had somehow fallen into her mouth. "What matters most is that I am already married, and dead, and came back to the world so that I might defeat you. Now, are you going to be defeated?"  
  
"See?" Nienna asked, tugging at Steel's arm. "She's already married, and dead. I, on the other hand, am not married, and can't die."  
  
Steel shrugged Nienna's hand off, still concentrating on Lúthien. "I suppose there's nothing I can say to convince you of how much I want you?"  
  
Lúthien shrugged. "You could probably convince me. I have seen that you are drawn to beauty. But I have a husband whom I love very much."  
  
"No woman can resist me, though," said Steel.  
  
"Why not? Grandiose ambitions, leers that are nearly as badly hidden as Morgoth's-"  
  
"Hey!" Morgoth objected.  
  
"They were too, Morgoth, and you know it," snapped Lúthien, without even looking at him. "You've been leering at me since I came back into the world. As I was saying to your Stu, I can easily resist them. Fëanor gripped with lust for the Silmarils is infinitely more attractive."  
  
Nienna stared at Lúthien. "You have odd standards of attractiveness," she said at last.  
  
Steel ignored the Valië, stamping his foot. "You have to be attracted to me! Every woman is! It's a rule!"  
  
Lúthien shrugged. "Sorry. Not for beautiful half-Maiar, half-Elves who chose a mortal life." She paused. "Or perhaps I should say not for _the_ beautiful half-Maia, half-Elf who chose a mortal life." She smiled cheerfully. "Since there aren't any others like me in Arda."  
  
"No one else like you?" Steel choked. "But there must be other fish in the sea- there's always other fish in the sea-"  
  
"I don't see what fish have to do with it," said Lúthien, "but you won't find anyone else like me. Oh, yes, there was Arwen, but she didn't have to go through half the things I went through. And she's already married, too," she added, as Steel turned and glanced longingly towards Middle-earth.  
  
Steel shook his head. "There must be someone who would have me, babe, even if you won't."  
  
Lúthien arched her brows. "I don't see what children have to do with it, either."  
  
"This- you can't do this to me!" Steel howled.  
  
Nienna tugged at his arm. "I'm here! I'm here! I experienced a bonding between us that was so deep and complete that I think my inner Ainu recognized your inner Ainu. I think that we should-"  
  
"I'm a Gary Stu," said Steel, as if checking something. "That means that no woman can resist me if I really want her."  
  
Lúthien just looked at him.  
  
"But you're resisting me," Steel went on. "And I really want you."  
  
Lúthien continued to just look at him.  
  
"The contradiction- the contradiction-" Steel moaned, and then abruptly exploded in a messy splash of body parts that, of course, coated Morgoth while not touching Lúthien. Nienna wound up cuddling Steel's liver for a moment, then dropped it and ran towards Mandos, wailing.  
  
"At least that started her on her natural course of grief again," Lúthien murmured, and turned and walked towards Ekkaia.  
  
Morgoth followed her, a little dazed. "Lúthien?" he asked on the way there.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Could you have done that to me? Made me cease to exist, just by creating some contradiction between your resisting me and my wanting you?"  
  
Lúthien glanced at him and snorted. "Perhaps I could have, but you were already deeply invested in your lust for the Silmarils, and you could have them. If they could object, then perhaps Arda could have been rid of all its problems."  
  
Morgoth mumbled something- even he didn't know what it was- and continued walking with her towards the Walls of the World.   
  
They heard the shouting quite a long way off. Morgoth flinched, suddenly remembering that two slots in the box, and not just one, had been empty.  
  
Lúthien just shook her head and kept walking. "Not my problem, not my problem," she was muttering under her breath over and over. Because Morgoth didn't want to run in front of Lúthien- and because he wasn't entirely sure if he would run towards the sound or away- he walked at her side perforce.  
  
One of the shouters was Varda, Morgoth realized as he listened. She seemed to be saying something about a crazy, insane, idiotic idea that was never going to work. Thus it made sense that the other shouter, when he could get a word in edgewise, was Fëanor.  
  
"It will so work," he said. "When have any of my ideas not worked?"  
  
"Perhaps when you thought you could keep the Silmarils for yourself without consequence?" Varda screamed. "Or when you thought it was a good idea to swear a stupid unbreakable oath and rebel against the Powers of the World and kill other Elves for the sake of boats?"  
  
"_Besides_ that."  
  
"It's not going to work! You're crazy!"  
  
They came in sight of the Walls of the World then, and Lúthien shook her head and vanished into them. "Rest, and peace, at last," she was murmuring.  
  
Morgoth almost wished he could go with her.  
  
He moved up carefully beside Varda, who was yelling so hard that light was blazing from her again. "What's the matter?" he asked.  
  
Varda didn't hear him, or didn't care that he had spoken. "Insane idiotic psychotic neurotic _disturbed_ Elf!" she yelled at Fëanor. "It's not going to work, and I will stop you right now."  
  
"Um, Varda-" said Morgoth, watching Fëanor. The Elf was smiling, his eyes fever-bright, and bouncing something small up and down in his hand.  
  
"It's just a question, isn't it?" Fëanor asked. "Just a little question."  
  
"You will never get a chance to ask it!" Varda promised, still at the top of her lungs, and lunged at him.  
  
Morgoth tried to catch her too late.  
  
Fëanor laughed aloud, whispered, "This should bring the attention I want," and cast the Sue forward.  
  
  
  
Next chapter: the last one, and Fëanor's plan comes spiraling out.


	33. Isanthétaril Illuminated: Part One

A/N: Thank you, everyone! Glad you enjoyed the Stu chapter so much.

Last chapter, split up into two, and the epilogue.  
  
And you find out what Fëanor has been up to.  
  
  
The Game of the Gods, 33  
  
"What's so bad about this?" Varda sneered, actually making a motion to catch the Sue as Fëanor tossed her. "I don't think that she could do anything the others haven't done, and we stopped them-"  
  
"Mother!"  
  
Varda stopped talking abruptly. Morgoth closed his eyes.   
  
When nothing happened, he opened them, to see Varda staring in horror at the child who clung to her. Little by little, she turned her head until her eyes could focus on him, though they were still wide and staring with horror.  
  
"Morgoth?" she asked, and if he hadn't been so horrified himself, Morgoth might have managed to laugh at the sound of her voice. "Did you do this?"  
  
Morgoth looked at the small shining figure, aware of Fëanor's laughter in the background. "Well…"  
  
"Mother!" The little girl looked up at Varda, her eyes glowing with similar light. "I'm your daughter and Father's daughter, don't you remember? And I have power over both wind and light, as well as the deeps of the sea and the dead and dreams… oh, all the powers of the other Valar combined!" She laughed and shook out her hair, which tumbled down her back in a mass of dark curls streaked with gold. "My name is Isanthétaril, and my coming was foretold to save Middle-earth!" She frowned when Varda just stared at her. "Mama?" she whispered.  
  
"Is she-" Varda asked, voice still distant.  
  
"Yes," said Morgoth. "Pure Vala, and with the powers of all the other Valar, just as she said."  
  
Fëanor laughed more loudly.  
  
Morgoth spun on the Elf. "What are you hoping to achieve?" he screamed. "I created her in a moment of revenge, but even I would never have used her! You should be ashamed of yourself, Fëanor, son of Finwë!" He stopped, and clapped a hand over his mouth, no longer believing Manwë's claims that he hadn't used some kind of spell on him.  
  
Fëanor just stared at him, but someone managed an answer, even if it wasn't him.   
  
"No, _you_ should be ashamed of yourself, Morgoth son of- Eru," the voice finished, a little less triumphantly than when it had begun. "This scene where you asked Sauron to tie you to the bed and spank you is nothing short of disgusting."  
  
Morgoth spun around. It was, of course, Finwë, sitting on top of a boulder and shaking his head as he held Morgoth's open diary on his back.  
  
Fëanor snickered. "I was going to keep it," he said, "but Father enjoyed it much more than I did."  
  
"And _this_ one," said Finwë, flipping over a few more pages. Morgoth watched him with a jumping stomach, and knew as if by instinct what he would land on. The Elf's face brightened. "Yes, the one where spanking wasn't enough anymore, and you wanted Sauron to take it up to whips, so that you could pretend it was Maedhros getting angry at you for tying him on top of a mountain-"  
  
"Oh, I'm not angry about that anymore," Maedhros chuckled. "I know it just means suppressed passion now." He pushed his hair out of his eye with a hand, and winked at Morgoth.  
  
"Are they bothering you, Uncle?"  
  
Morgoth looked down, then flinched from Isanthétaril's brilliant eyes. But here was a way to get revenge, after all. "Yes, they are," he answered. "They should all be in Mandos, but they won't go."  
  
The Vala Sue frowned, her bright eyes going to the Elves. "They won't?" she asked. "That's not very nice."  
  
Amrod and Amras actually stepped back with apprehensive looks in their eyes, but Finwë remained right where he was, and the other sons of Fëanor smiled tolerantly. Fëanor kept watching the walls of the world.  
  
"No, it's not very nice," said a strong, carrying feminine voice. "But I know something that would be. Want to play a game, little one?"  
  
Nerdanel strolled around the boulder on which Finwë sat, carrying a portable forge and a hammer. Isanthétaril brightened.  
  
"What's that?" she asked, clapping her hands.   
  
"This is a contest," said Nerdanel, putting the equipment on the ground. "You see, Aulë just made this." She held out an exquisite crystal globe that made Morgoth's old Silmaril-lust twitch. Isanthétaril took it in her hands and examined it with quiet attentiveness.  
  
"You see," Nerdanel went on, "he heard that you were claiming the powers of the Valar, and he thought he should make this to show you just how well he can forge. He made this in three minutes. He said that you can have an hour."  
  
Isanthétaril snorted. "I can forge my answer in _two_ minutes," she said, and set to work at the forge.  
  
Nerdanel nodded and smiled over the little Vala, but cast her husband a tense glance.  
  
Fëanor turned his head to meet her gaze, and Morgoth shuddered. There was something even crazier in the Elf's glance than he had imagined.   
  
"Now that that's out of the way," said Finwë, flipping to another page in the diary, "I think that we should get to the scene with the whips and the spanking both at once. And there was something about winding a rope around your throat just at the moment that you started to-"  
  
"Isanthétaril!" Morgoth yelled.  
  
Isanthétaril turned around, a beautiful crystal globe in her hands, even more beautiful than Aulë's. "What do you think?" she asked Nerdanel. "Do you think it will suit?"  
  
"Of course," said the Elf breathlessly. "It's wonderful."  
  
The little Vala Sue nodded, and glanced at Morgoth. "What is it, Uncle Mor-Mor?"  
  
Morgoth winced, but cheered himself up with thoughts of what was going to happen to Finwë in a moment. "That Elf is the worst one," he said, pointing to him. "He stole my private diary, and he's reading sections of it aloud. I think that's mean, and that you should stop him and send him back to Mandos at once."  
  
Isanthétaril narrowed her eyes. "I don't think that's bad enough," she said, and snapped her fingers.  
  
Finwë vanished. Morgoth ran forward and grabbed his diary, clasping it close to him and shutting his eyes in bliss.  
  
"What did you do to him?"  
  
Morgoth glanced uneasily at Fëanor, who was watching him with a wide gaze that showed nothing at all. Morgoth edged a little backwards. At least, when the madness looked out of Fëanor's eyes, then he knew what he was dealing with, even if it wasn't something nice, or comforting.  
  
"I sent him to the Field of Bunny Rabbits," said Isanthétaril firmly, snapping her fingers again. A mist billowed up in the air before them, and then formed itself into a vision not unlike the way that Middle-earth had looked when it was part of the gamespace. Morgoth, squinting, could just make out a bright green meadow dotted with colorful flowers and hopping rabbits of many colors. Most of them seemed to be walking on their hind legs. "Watch."  
  
Finwë appeared in the middle of the field. At once the rabbits turned towards him, and began to beat him with pillows they snatched out of the air.  
  
"Each pillow is a magic pillow," Isanthétaril went on haughtily. "They'll make him realize what he's done with each blow, and then the next one will make him feel bad about it. He can't come out until he's reformed and doesn't steal people's diaries any more."  
  
Fëanor was staring at her. Once again, Morgoth found that he didn't like the look in the Elf's eyes. _But surely,_ he thought as he edged away again, _there's nothing more that he can do to me now. I have my diary back, and there was no worse torment than hearing Finwë read that aloud._  
  
"Isanthétaril," said Fëanor, his voice far too soft. Morgoth flinched and hid, aware that Fëanor's sons also looked at their father uneasily. That was a bad, bad sign.  
  
"What?" the little Vala asked, turning around and looking up at Fëanor expectantly.  
  
"Is it really true that you can do anything?" Fëanor asked. "Anything that the other Valar can do?"  
  
Isanthétaril tossed her hair, eyes growing bright and rebellious. "Not just anything they can do. Anything at all."  
  
Fëanor nodded. "But I bet that you couldn't raise Númenor from the sea again and bring back everybody alive who drowned in it."  
  
Isanthétaril looked uneasy for a moment. Probably Morgoth had made his Sues with a little of his own sense of self-preservation, though he wasn't really sure about that.  
  
But then wildness overcame good sense, and Isanthétaril said flippantly, "'Course."  
  
"I bet you can't," said Fëanor, who was giving that peculiar smile Caranthir and Curufin had inherited.  
  
"Can too!" Isanthétaril stamped her foot.  
  
Fëanor bent down towards her, his face calm.  
  
"Can't, either," he said to her, from just a few inches away.  
  
"Can can can!" Isanthétaril shrieked, and lifted her hands.  
  
Morgoth felt the tremble as the world's seas tried to readjust themselves. Then the earth shook, too, as the rising peak of the Meneltarma and the island that came behind it started to lift. Morgoth glanced to the east, and shuddered when he made out the island rising, indeed. Just the thought of all the Men, his old enemies, having their home again was enough to make him frown, but he turned back, compelled by some odd fascination, to watch the contest between Isanthétaril and Fëanor. He had no doubt it was a contest, though the Sue seemed unaware of it.  
  
"Most impressive," Fëanor mused, his eyes on Ekkaia still, and not the Sue or the east. "But I bet you can't make a ring that is as powerful as the One Ring, but good instead of evil."  
  
"Can can can!" shouted Isanthétaril, and ran back to the forge.  
  
Fëanor smiled.  
  
Morgoth shook his head. "What are you doing?" he whispered, and only realized when Fëanor turned to look at him that the Elf had heard.  
  
"Oh, something," said Fëanor. "You may be sure that I am always doing something, even when you don't know what it is." He paused. "Of course, you aren't intelligent enough to realize it most of the time, so I suppose I should say 'even _though_ you don't know what it is.'"  
  
Morgoth growled, but was distracted by Isanthétaril running back, holding a golden Ring. He might have desired it, but he could feel the pain it would cause him from here. It would work only for the good and pure of heart, just as Fëanor had intended that it should work.  
  
"Fëanor!"  
  
Morgoth looked up. Aulë stood behind the forge that Nerdanel had brought along, his arms folded and his face worked in a scowl. Fëanor nodded and waved to him.  
  
"The advice that you gave me is proving very useful!" he called back.  
  
"Is it necessary for it to go this far?" Aulë asked.  
  
"Yes," said Fëanor, with a fervor that Morgoth had only heard when his enemy cursed him before, "it is."  
  
"Very well," said Aulë with a sigh, and then stepped aside and sat down behind the forge, as if he were waiting for something.  
  
"Thank you," Nerdanel said to him quietly.  
  
Morgoth narrowed his eyes. He had wondered why Aulë seemed to be helping Fëanor with this plan. Of course, Nerdanel's kin had been close to the Vala. Perhaps he had helped Nerdanel's husband out as a favor to her.  
  
Nerdanel, too, turned and watched the Walls of the World with something like hope, mixed with nervousness, on her face.  
  
If there was any nervousness in Fëanor's voice when he next spoke, Morgoth couldn't hear it. "And do you think that you could rule over Manwë if you wanted?" he asked. "Even though he is your father?"  
  
There came a sharp gagging noise from beside Morgoth, and he turned to see Varda standing there, watching Fëanor with something like hate in her eyes. "He is trouble," she muttered.  
  
"And you never realized this before?" Morgoth felt compelled to ask.  
  
Varda shook her head. "I never realized that he would do what he is doing."  
  
"Of course I could rule if Father wanted me to!" Isanthétaril tossed her hair. "But that would be taking his place before he is ready, and I don't think that he wants me to do that."  
  
Fëanor turned his back, his arms folded across his chest. "Then I suppose you can't really do _anything_," he said. "Just a small group of things. Who knows what else I might ask you to do, and you couldn't do?"  
  
Isanthétaril wailed, sounding very upset.  
  
"There's really no way to stop her, is there?" Varda asked. "Not if she's a Vala, and the most powerful one of us all."  
  
"None," Morgoth confirmed, for a moment feeling a fleeting sorrow that he had made the Sue. Then he shrugged. _At least I'll be here for the destruction of Arda, even if I'm not the one who'll cause it._  
  
"Fëanor."  
  
Morgoth turned his head. Manwë was standing not far away, looking so grave that he didn't even use archaism when he addressed Fëanor.  
  
"Do you know what you will force us to do?"  
  
"Oh, _yes_," said Fëanor, face as passionate as Morgoth imagined he must have looked when creating the Silmarils. "I know very well."  
  
Manwë stared at him a moment longer, then closed his eyes. Varda closed hers, Aulë his, and Morgoth felt a ripple of power travel eastward that probably meant the other Valar were doing the same thing.  
  
"We, the Valar, are the guardians of the world," said Manwë clearly. "But when we must, we can resign that guardianship."  
  
The Walls of the World shook. A light came pouring through them, and a presence that made Morgoth whimper and cower, clutching his diary and the box of Sues close. Even now, Maedhros was edging towards him as if he would steal the diary.  
  
_Fëanor,_ said a voice that everyone there heard, the voice of Eru Ilúvatar. _What have you done?_  
  
  
  
Yes, Fëanor really is that crazy.


	34. Isanthétaril Illuminated: Part Two

It was very hard to start writing this. I didn't want to say goodbye.  
  
But all good things must come to an end, as the proverb says.  
  
I knew there was a reason I think most proverbs are silly.  
  
  
  
The Game of the Gods, 34  
  
Fëanor laughed.  
  
Morgoth stared. The damn Elf was standing and laughing before the power that had made Eä, the power that had made all the Ainur and brought forth the Elves and Men alone- the power that had made _him_. How in the world could Fëanor be causal about this? Morgoth certainly couldn't have been; he would have been cowering even if he had been the one to cause the trouble that made Eru pay such attention to Arda.   
  
_Do you have an answer for me?_ Eru's voice asked.  
  
Fëanor managed to stop laughing. "I do have an answer," he said. "I don't know that you will like the answer, in particular, but I summoned you for a reason."  
  
The light grew brighter, and the voice colder. _You did not summon me. I came because the Valar laid down their guardianship_  
  
"Yes, and I made them do it," said Fëanor, grinning.  
  
_Fëanor_, said the voice.  
  
Fëanor laughed again. Morgoth shivered and tried to hide behind Varda. For the first time, he thought he was seeing the Elf's arrogance revealed, in the shining grin and glowing gray eyes that truly didn't seem to understand whom he was confronting.  
  
"I am only as you made me," said arrogant Elf now answered innocently.  
  
Eru managed to growl. Morgoth cowered. He had never heard the One sound like that, even the one time that Morgoth _had_ lost control and smacked Manwë in His sight.   
  
"Oh, very well," said Fëanor, and scooped the Silmarils out of his pocket, using a mithril glove so they wouldn't burn his hands. Morgoth twitched. Their radiance called him even now, lust-inducing and awe-inspiring.  
  
Of course, prudence kept him right where he was. Go near them now, and Eru would probably smite him on general principles. Or maybe Fëanor would attack.  
  
To his dismay, Morgoth found that he didn't really know what he was more afraid of.  
  
_They were to remain within air, and earth, and sea_, said Eru._Why did you fetch them out?_  
  
"Because," said Fëanor, "I am reminded that there was something I should have done long since, when I first made them, and I am now going to do them."  
  
He slid to one knee.  
  
Morgoth stared blankly. Varda craned her neck as if she was trying to see the dagger that Fëanor surely must have had hidden in his other hand. Morgoth shook his head. He didn't think that Fëanor's plan was to assassinate Eru, but not because that would have been too wild for him. He just wouldn't have knelt down to do it.  
  
_And what is this?_ Eru asked.  
  
"I am offering up the works of my hands," Fëanor answered. For a moment, his glance went sideways and alighted on Aulë. "I am reminded that, after all, I am only a sub-creator, and not a creator, and that I should not have hoarded my treasures, but shared them freely. Perhaps if I had broken them when Varda and Yavanna first asked, and let their light spill back into the world, then it would not have mattered that Morgoth poisoned the Trees."  
  
Morgoth stiffened. _My evil does matter-_  
  
Eru was there, though. He shut even this thoughts up.  
  
"I am reminded," Fëanor went on, "that I suffered from the sin of possessiveness, and that I did not pass on to new treasures when I had made the Silmarils, but clung to them and sighed over them. I should not have done that. You put the love of making into me, and I should have remembered to honor you with it." He bowed his head and held out the Silmarils more prominently.  
  
"What is he doing?" Varda asked weakly. "That's a pretense of humility. Surely Eru doesn't believe that for a moment."  
  
"I don't know," Morgoth murmured, studying Fëanor's bowed head. "It looks genuine to me." Yes, the arrogance that had been flashing in the Elf's eyes a moment ago proclaimed it wasn't, but he couldn't imagine Fëanor getting down on his knees and submitting like this. If he had been able to imagine it, most of his history with the Noldor would have been far different.  
  
_You are making a mockery of me_, said the voice that proved Eru was no fool a moment later.  
  
Fëanor smiled up. "No. I am truly offering up the works of my hands, and admitting that I was wrong. And why should you not accept them? After all, once before a servant of yours who had a great love of making made something that could have been disastrous, even more than my making of the Silmarils, and you listened to his apology and accepted his creations into your world." Again, his gaze went flashing sideways to Aulë.  
  
Eru paused for a long moment. _Yes, but that was different_, he said.  
  
"How?" Fëanor asked.  
  
_That- he submitted to me before he caused any trouble,_ Eru said.  
  
"Only because you spoke to him," said Fëanor. "How do you know that he would have bowed down unto you if you hadn't? Perhaps he wouldn't."  
  
_You have made trouble in the past, Fëanor_, Eru said. _I will not forget that._.  
  
"I am repenting, though." Fëanor bowed his head. "I'm sorry."  
  
"_Got_ to be a trick," Varda muttered, while Manwë cheered.  
  
"How can you trick Ilúvatar?" Morgoth asked, even though he agreed with Varda. There had to be some trick here, some deception he wasn't seeing, but he could think of no cause in whose name Fëanor would apologize.  
  
There was a long, long silence. Then Eru said, _I do not know how much to trust you, Fëanor. Since you have broken out of Mandos, you have done nothing but cause trouble._  
  
"All in the name of stopping Morgoth's Sues, who were a threat to creation," said Fëanor, his face shining with pure innocence. "And, of course, gathering up the Silmarils, and bringing them to you so that you could judge me." He smiled even more widely. "I called on a disgruntled Balrog of Morgoth who dwelt in the Mines of Moria to get the Silmaril out of the fire for me, and you let me. You even gave Námo the only order he would have accepted to let my sons out of Mandos, and gave me the knowledge of where the Men slept so that I could let Túrin out. You _must_ have been curious to see what I would do."  
  
_How do I know that you would continue this repenting behavior?_ Eru asked sternly. _How do I know that you would submit any other treasures of your hands to me?_  
  
Fëanor grinned. Morgoth inched backward, particularly when he saw that Maedhros, who didn't seem all that impressed by what was happening in front of him, had his eyes on the diary.  
  
"Of course, the only way to test that would be to let me make more things," said Fëanor. "They won't let me have so much as a forge in Mandos. Let me live again, perhaps among the Valar-"  
  
_You have caused too much trouble in Arda. I will not let you remain here._  
  
"Perhaps in the Void, then?" Fëanor asked.  
  
_A living Elf could not survive there._  
  
"But perhaps _here_, he could." Fëanor nodded to the side, and Maglor came forward tenderly cradling something that looked like one of the crystal globes Nerdanel had had Isanthétaril forge. This one was colored blue and green, though, and Morgoth could see white shapes sweeping across it.  
  
Fingolfin's words, whiny and pouty though they had been, returned to him. _'Oh, Fingolfin, look, Fëanor made a working model of the universe today!'_  
  
And he had done it. He had made a world that worked, one that looked much like Arda, but was, if Morgoth could judge of the shape of the continents beneath the swirling clouds, substantially different.  
  
_You are suggesting that- that-_ Eru sounded as if he couldn't get His vocal chords to work right, which would have been all the better if He had actually had vocal chords. Or maybe He did. It wasn't a question that Morgoth had ever thought to ask Him.  
  
"Yes, that you make it real." Fëanor gave that smile of blinding innocence again. "Of course, I am not so arrogant-"  
  
Morgoth tried, and totally failed, to suppress a snort. Fëanor serenely ignored him.   
  
"-as to think that I could make it live like Arda. It will require your help, of course. Another world set in the Void, for purposes of redemption. Of course I would go there and work in peace, and not trouble you or yours again, other than submitting the works of my hands to you." Fëanor bowed his head in that sickeningly false humility again.  
  
Eru was silent for a long moment. Then He said, _I suppose that you would want company in this world- of yours?_  
  
"Troublemakers, of course," said Fëanor. "My poor sons. Maedhros still thinks that everyone's in love with him, poor thing. You've heard him bragging of it. Maglor needs counseling from wandering the shores of Middle-earth. Celegorm is desperate enough for love to look for it in the arms of a Sue, and he has never quite gotten over Lúthien. My younger sons have this distressing tendency to want to kill and torture Morgoth. In a quieter, gentler land, they would learn better. And my wife and I need time to reconcile fully. And my father must learn to control his libido. And my mother would like to see and walk in the sunlight again, I am sure. All pressing problems, and Nienna's counseling has done absolutely nothing to rectify them-"  
  
"Hey!" said a voice somewhere near the back, whom everyone ignored.  
  
"And I would ask for nothing more than their company, and the world, and the time and materials necessary to create my works," said Fëanor.  
  
_Nothing more than that._  
  
Morgoth, listening, frowned worriedly. There was a tone of something like amusement in His voice, and it definitely shouldn't be there.  
  
"Well, of course, if you want to throw in Morgoth free to torture and make me Vala of the world, that would be nice, too." Fëanor considered for a moment. "Actually, no, no Valar powers. That would take up too much of my time. But a free Morgoth. And no more Sues, especially that one," he added, waving a hand to Isanthétaril.  
  
Isanthétaril, who seemed to have been involved in mentally comparing her power to Ilúvatar's, looked up indignantly. "Hey!"  
  
_Fëanor,_ said Eru. _What makes you think that I would grant this? What makes you think that I would accept such a pretense of humility, when you have shown me how much you disdain it?_  
  
"Because," said Fëanor, his smile blazing like a comet, "you created me in the first place, and Morgoth in the first place, and Aulë in the first place-"  
  
Aulë muttered something that sounded like, "I'm being placed after Morgoth?"  
  
"-and you created me with the ability to bring forth beautiful things, which was disrupted by someone who shall remain known by the name I gave him." Fëanor glared at Morgoth. "You wanted those beautiful things to be. Yes, you know what they would have been. Yes, you know that this humility is a pretense." Fëanor turned back to Eru. "But that is not the same as actually seeing them, or knowing that you made an Elf who would try to get away with this kind of thing, and actually believe that he could succeed."  
  
The light was silent, and still. Morgoth stared back and forth from the light to Fëanor, still shaking his head. The Elf was beyond psychotic. Morgoth was actually willing to think that the reason Nienna's counseling hadn't helped him had nothing to do with Nienna.  
  
Then Eru said, _Yes_.  
  
Morgoth stared.  
  
"Yes to which part?" Fëanor asked hopefully.  
  
_Yes to this world,_ said Eru, _and yes to your making things in it, and yes to the company you asked for. No Morgoth to torture, no Vala powers._  
  
Morgoth thought about screaming that it wasn't fair, but couldn't, for two reasons: his jaw was hanging open too far to say anything, and the being who set the laws of fairness in the universe was the one who had just violated them.  
  
"What about Sues?" Fëanor asked.  
  
_No Sues_. Eru turned towards Isanthétaril. _In truth, this one has existed quite long enough._  
  
"Don't talk about me like that!" said Isanthétaril indignantly. "And I'm more powerful than you! I can do anything!"  
  
_But you are Vala,_ said Eru, _and that means Ainu, and that means that you're under my control_.  
  
Isanthétaril had a moment to look surprised before her bodily form dissolved. She wailed, but the wail cut off.  
  
Morgoth turned back in time to see Fëanor's world float out of Maglor's hand and towards Ekkaia. It grew as it went, and brightened, and Morgoth could see continents that he wouldn't get the chance to uproot, and seas that he wouldn't get the chance to disrupt. He had to close his eyes to hold back his tears of frustration at that.  
  
Fëanor laughed, stood, and turned to face the Valar. "I suppose this is farewell," he said.  
  
"I always knew that thou couldst reform, Fëanor!" said Manwë happily.  
  
Morgoth thought that the look of pity he gave Manwë then was the first expression he had ever shared with Fëanor. His brother obviously understood _nothing_ of what had just happened.  
  
"Good riddance," said Varda, but she sounded choked up.  
  
Fëanor winked at her. "Admit it, Varda. Some part of you liked the havoc I caused."  
  
"Yes, but you'll do better in another world," said Varda firmly, "far, far away from me."  
  
"I suspect that's true," said Fëanor, and then tilted his head and listened as two distant shouts ripped through the air. "Ah, I suppose that's Celegorm, being ripped away from his Sue love, and my mother, being put back into life again." He smiled, and while this wasn't the comet-like smile, it was at least star-like. "Well, they will just have to get used to it."  
  
"What about Fingolfin and his sons?" asked Varda. "Why did you not name them as part of your company, and give them the chance to live again?"  
  
"Because," said Fëanor, "I don't like them."  
  
He turned to Aulë, and nodded once. Morgoth didn't know what had passed between them, but it was enough to make the Vala close his eyes for a moment.  
  
Nerdanel skipped up to her husband and took his hand. "There will be time to reconcile?" she asked.  
  
Fëanor kissed her cheek. "Truly."  
  
The air rippled, and Finwë appeared at his side, looking traumatized and muttering something about rabbits and pillows. Fëanor gave him a sympathetic look and gripped his free hand.  
  
"Come, Father," he said. "You have more problems than ever to work out, I think, but it will happen. I can remember enough to make you a copy of Morgoth's diary."  
  
Morgoth clutched the diary protectively.  
  
Fëanor turned to face him. "And I suppose this is farewell to you, as well," he said. "You'll probably have a nice life."  
  
"Huh?" Morgoth asked. He knew it made him sound unintelligent. He didn't care. His enemy was going far, far away, to a place where he could never bother Morgoth again. It was worth it.  
  
"You helped the Valar, didn't you?" Fëanor asked. "You're good now. They'll be calling you Melkor again, next thing you know."  
  
"No!" Morgoth exclaimed.  
  
Fëanor winked at him, then turned as Eru's voice spoke again. _It is time to go._  
  
His sons, Finwë, and Nerdanel faded from sight first. Fëanor glanced back once at Morgoth before he himself vanished.  
  
"Just remember one thing," he said.  
  
"Yes?" Morgoth asked. He didn't know what he was expecting- some proverb, perhaps.  
  
"I won," said Fëanor, and smiled.  
  
The light took him before Morgoth could think of a response to that. He was still trying to think of a response when the light turned its attention to him.  
  
Then Eru's voice said, _I suppose we shall have to think about what to do with you, next._  


One more, the epilogue, and that's it.

I have the sniffles.


	35. Epilogue

Epilogue time!  
  
I know there were a lot of people wondering what would happen to Morgoth, so….  
  
  
  
The Game of the Gods, Epilogue  
  
"You shouldn't have done that, Morgoth," Ulmo said, as they halted near the Walls of the World and the gate they would use to shove Morgoth back into the Void. "If you hadn't done that, you might have been able to stay in Valinor. He was in a forgiving mood that day."  
  
Morgoth straightened his shoulders. "I am the Dark Power of the world," he said. "It had to stay that way."  
  
Aulë, his other escort, sighed. "Yes, but tossing the box of Sues into Ekkaia and _deliberately_ spreading them to other worlds? Was it really necessary to go that far?"  
  
"Yes," said Morgoth darkly. It was all very well for them. They hadn't heard what Eru said when He touched Morgoth's mind.  
  
_This has been a day for redemptions. You may still have yours, if you ask nicely._  
  
"Ask nicely" was anathema.  
  
So was asking for redemption.  
  
And Eru had shown him a vision of the future. Yes, it would have involved dwelling in Valinor. Yes, it would have involved making nice with the Valar, and even learning to enjoy the singing of the Vanyar.  
  
Morgoth wasn't quite sure which part of the vision had horrified him most, though: the one that showed him eventually marrying Nienna, or the one that had showed him eventually sitting around with Manwë and laughing about Fëanor's "antics."  
  
No. He was Morgoth, and he was going to stay that way.  
  
"Here we are."  
  
Ulmo opened the door in the Walls of the World, and Aulë pushed him, almost gently, through.   
  
Morgoth turned and looked back at them. Aulë looked regretful, and started to say something about visiting someday, but Ulmo shut the door firmly.  
  
Morgoth looked around the absolute blackness of the Void, and sighed in relief. Yes, it was boring, but he thought it was time he remembered what boring looked like. Here, at least, were no mad Elves, no even madder Elves telling him that he was in love with them, and nobody to read his diary, which he still had clutched in his hands.  
  
And he could think of the trick he had played, spreading Sues to other worlds, even if he would never get to see what actually happened.  
  
And he could rest safe and sure in the absolute knowledge that there was nothing Eru could do to pay him back.  
  
"I'm bored! Play with me!"  
  
A ball of light appeared next to him, and Morgoth turned around to regard it in horror. It turned almost at once into Isanthétaril, who stared at him with a pout on her face.  
  
"He exiled me to the Void!" she whined. "For nothing! Just because I wanted to save the world, like I was destined to do!" Then her eyes grew bright. "But you can play with me. He promised me you knew lots of fun games!"  
  
_Nothing I can do to pay you back?_ whispered Eru's voice in his mind.  
  
Morgoth screamed. "No! Let me back in the world!" He turned and started clawing at the Walls of the World. "I'll do anything! Live in Valinor, chat up Nienna, laugh with Manwë-"  
  
"I don't think that will work," said Isanthétaril brightly. "He mentioned something about forever-"  
  
Morgoth screamed again.  
  
Eru laughed one more time in his head, and then His voice vanished. Something appeared in front of Morgoth, though- a piece of paper. He snatched it up, hoping that it was a message from Eru promising some sort of reprieve.  
  
It said:  
  
_Dear Dark Power of the World,  
  
Amazing what kind of mood He was in to listen to ideas from me.  
  
Fëanor._  
  
The End.  


I want to massively, massively thank everyone who read, and especially those who reviewed- whether it was to point out mistakes, ask questions, or just to tell me how much fun they were having. I wrote this to have fun, so it's good to see I could make other people feel the same way.

Namárië!

-Limyaael.


End file.
